


One New Message from Unknown Number

by workerBee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (All the eye stuff is non-graphic), Aftermath of Torture, Asphyxiation, Dick Pics, Eye Gouging, Eye Trauma, Gun Violence, Hux is Not Nice, Inspired by Horror Movies, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Mentions of choking, Mind Games, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Torture, Original Character Death(s), Serial Killer Ren, Sexting, Stockholm Syndrome, Texting, Torture, mentions of consensual somnophilia, poor Mitaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 31,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/workerBee/pseuds/workerBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first text Hux receives from the unknown number is a video.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Hux starts receiving texts from an unknown number demanding he chooses life or death for complete strangers, he's not impressed: whatever the hoax is, it clearly doesn't manage to scare him like it should. He decides to play into the game for a while. And, eventually, he gets in too deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Одно новое сообщение от Неизвестного](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712010) by [Hux_and_Ren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hux_and_Ren/pseuds/Hux_and_Ren), [minty_mix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minty_mix/pseuds/minty_mix)



The first text Hux receives from the unknown number is a video. It doesn't come with any text at first, so he plays it curiously.

 

It seems to have been taken with a phone's camera, and at first there is only darkness, shades of brown and grey and red blurred together with movement. Then the camera turns and focuses on a face. It's an old man, around eighty, Hux thinks, and his mouth is gagged with a strip of black fabric tied around his head. He's sweating heavily, his eyes unfocused, his head tilted to the side.

 

Before Hux can gather anymore information about the man, the camera turns to another person. It's a girl this time, a young girl – probably somewhere around 18, with dirty blonde hair that falls over her shaking shoulders. Her eyes are focused on something above the camera and she's trying to speak through her own gag. It's not hard for Hux to tell what she's trying to say: some kind of desperate begging. There's no response from whoever holds the camera.

 

It turns back to the old man, pausing on him for a moment, then again to the young girl, and finally the video ends.

 

When he goes back to his message screen, the unknown number has sent him a new text.

 

_“hes milos william. 83. he used to be an accountant. stole over 70,000 from his clients. his wife died two years ago, but he has three children. shes olga novotny. 18. highschool student. she and her friends bullied a boy from her school into suicide last year. she never faced any retribution. one of them will die tonight and youll pick which one. if you dont theyll both die. choose wisely.”_

 

Hux reclined into his sofa and contemplated the hoax with an amused smile. It was certainly the most interesting he'd ever received – usually they were texts about how he had “one message unread” and had to navigate to a specific web page to view it – and he didn't quite see what the point of it was. Possibly, sending a text to this number would cost him money – but the hoax was too weird for that to be the plan. Most people who were gullible enough to fall for it would contact the police instead of playing into the game.

 

After a moment of reflexion he realized it was probably one of those publicity stunts for a horror game or movie. He knew of a few of those, and suspected his response would probably be recorded and later used as publicity for whatever this was. It was interesting, and he decided he'd play along.

 

_“How did you get this number?”_ , he sent.

 

_“picked randomly. have you made your choice yet? you have until midnight.”_

 

He watched the video again. “Milos William” - or at least his actor – looked exhausted and unresponsive; “Olga Novotny” was focused on escaping this situation, begging and pleading her captor for her life. Really, the choice was easy.

 

_“Olga should live. She's younger. The old man is at the end of his life already. She has the will to survive.”_

 

There was no response from the unknown number for an hour after that, and Hux busied himself with coffee, work on his computer, jazz music and a bath. He had just come out of the bathroom when his phone buzzed again, and he picked it up to see another video.

 

The video started much the same as the previous one had; first darkness, then “Milos William”'s face. A hand came into the frame; large, gloved in black, and holding a revolver. There was no ceremony, no talk; one second the gun was pressed to the old man's temple, and the next it went off with a loud bang, taking a large part of his skull off and leaving carnage and blood dripping down to the man's chest. He could hear “Olga” screaming in the background, and then the video cut short.

 

There was a new text under it:

 

_“thx for playing along.”_

 

He scoffed. The quality of the special effects was convincing, but then again the camera was shaky and bad, being only that of a phone, so really he couldn't judge that well. The hoax was interesting, but not really impressive.

 

_“You're welcome. The special effects are nice. What is this stunt for?”_

 

A few moments passed, and then:

 

_“this isnt fake. this is real life.”_

 

Yeah, right. He smirked as he typed his answer:

 

_“I won't fall for it that easily, you know.”_

 

The message was soon marked read, but there was no response from the unknown number that night. He forgot about it as he ate dinner, and it was out of his mind by the time he brushed his teeth, turned on his alarm and got into bed.


	2. Intellectual Property

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Their second contact starts off much as the first one did, and though it should be unexpected – he thought the publicity stunt was over – it isn't surprising._

It's a week before he hears from that number again. He is too busy to think about it anyway: he's been occupying himself with large amounts of work. As a writer, he works mostly from home, and is lucky – and privileged – enough to live off his craft. It would allow for decadent living such as lazing around in pajamas and eating cereal for lunch, but Brendol Hux Junior, following in his father's footsteps, is a man of strict order. He allows himself to wear a T-shirt now and then when he's sure he won't see anyone for the day. At all other times, even in the comfort of his own home, he wears dress shirts and trousers.

 

He is a man of habit, polishing his shoes once a week, taking his shower every morning, and always parting his hair in the same place, and therefore it comes to him as natural that the unknown number would contact him again, on the same day as it did last week, a Wednesday evening.

 

Their second contact starts off much as the first one did, and though it should be unexpected – he thought the publicity stunt was over – it isn't surprising. His phone buzzes, he discovers a new video, and he opens it nonchalantly as he sips from his mug of tea.

 

This one resembles the previous videos, though the room appears to be a bit clearer here, better lit. He can tell it's some kind of garage or basement. Typical.

 

The face it focuses on this time isn't unknown to him. In fact, it's someone he knows, if only from afar: Sang Mallory is a mildly famous author, and he's met him at a few conventions and dinner parties, though he tries to keep away from those as much as possible. Currently, Mallory looks unconscious, and he supposes he isn't as good of an actor as he is a writer so they just told him to fake sleep. He is, actually, somewhat impressed at the cameo: Mallory is somewhat known, but mostly locally, in Hux's city, and he wonders for a moment if the actors have been picked specifically to be from his area, for more realism. That would be quite good, and he starts growing more interested in the hoax.

 

The second “victim” is a younger man, in his twenties perhaps: his face is gaunt and his dark skin looks sickly, probably from lighting or makeup. His eyes are open, but barely, and he's biting hard on his gag like he's in pain.

 

Like the last time, the camera pans back to Mallory, then to the young black man, and the video cuts off.

 

The text comes next.

 

_“sang mallory. 37. hes a writer, if only in name. his wife writes everything for him. hes been abusing her and taking credit for her work his whole career. hes got her manipulated into never saying anything. hes a fraud. neal tancred. 21. hes a college student. he dated my cousins friend for a while, until he beat her up and broke her arm. she never tried to sue so nothing happened to him. you know the deal. make your pick before midnight.”_

 

This little charade is getting interesting fast, and Hux finds himself smiling at the messages as he starts typing.

 

_“Your cousin's friend? Getting personal so soon in our relationship?”_

 

_“sometimes you have to shop locally._ ”

 

He sets his phone down to take his now empty mug to the sink, clean it, and set it on the side to dry. When he returns, he watches the video again.

 

He never really liked Sang Mallory: he is a crowd-pleasing man, which means he's exactly the kind of person Hux turns away from as early as possible. He easily makes the whole table laugh at the parties he attends, and captivates his audience during his lectures on creative writing. There's nothing Hux hates like a jovial, happy man who talks loudly about how “everyone can make it with hard work” and “if you're at the bottom you just have to climb your way up”. He is aware of just how privileged he is himself, coming from the family he comes from, living the life he lives, and he is infuriated by people just as lucky as himself who pretend it all came from hard work. Sang Mallory's father owns a large electronics society and has never had trouble providing his son with everything he wanted.

 

The young man next to him doesn't seem to have been as lucky with life. He's wearing a dirty, ratty sweater and he has a pair of glasses that seem to have been repaired with scotch tape. If even for that, Hux is a bit more willing to forgive him.

 

All in all, here he is faced with two cases of domestic violence; but one of them is accompanied by intellectual fraud, which, as an author, he takes particular offense to, so again his choice is easy: Mallory needs to die.

 

He breathes out evenly. For just a moment here, he forgot that this is all a game; a hoax; a prank; fake. He shakes his head in disapproval as he types his response nonetheless.

 

_“You make this too easy for me. Give me a real dilemma. Neal should live.”_

 

He waits for an answer a bit more impatiently this time. It comes, as expected, in video form.

 

Focus on Sang Mallory. He's still unconscious – playing unconscious, rather – when a hand comes into frame and slaps him into awareness.

 

“Rise and shine, Mr. Mallory”, says a voice – deep, too deep, modified via computer.

 

Mallory looks around himself blearily, then focuses his eyes on the camera. A hand comes into view again. Again, large, with a black glove – the same as the last time. It tugs down the gag from the man's mouth.

 

“Any words for our audience?”

 

Mallory is silent for a moment, as if he doesn't know what to say (He's probably forgotten his lines, thinks Hux disdainfully), then he opens his mouth wide to shout.

 

“Help me! Help me out of here! This man's crazy, he's got me and another guy down here, he's--”

 

He doesn't get to say much more: taking advantage of his yelling, the hand shoves the barrel of a revolver into his mouth and presses the trigger. The detonation is loud, violent, and Mallory's head falls back, boneless. The video cuts off.

 

He stares at his message screen in wonder for a few moments as the typing icon appears, until a new text pops up.

 

_“hope you liked the show. i see youre not impressed with the game so far. dont worry, ill make it worth your while next time.”_

 

_“How long will you hold this up for? I'm clearly not going to be any good for your publicity stunt. You should move on to someone more cooperative.”_

 

_“i already told you this isnt fake. youre just as cooperative as i want you to be. until next week.”_

 

_“What is the purpose of this?”_ , he sends, curious and vaguely frustrated – but, just as last time, he only sees the little “viewed” icon under his message. There's no answer.


	3. The Innocent and the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The realization hits Hux as he reads the news in the local newspaper._

The realization hits Hux as he reads the news in the local newspaper.

 

Local author found dead, says the headline, with an old photograph of Mallory smiling at a convention. Hux slowly puts his coffee down and grabs the newspaper with both hands, leaning in closer to read even though he has his reading glasses on and can see just fine.

 

They found Mallory's body in a landfill on the outskirts of town. He died by gunshot. They said he was apparently drugged, and had bruises all over his body.

 

A kid named Neal Tancred came forward soon after, claiming that he had been drugged and kidnapped along with Mallory by a man he described as “tall, strong, with a mask covering his whole face”. According to Tancred, the man had an accomplice who sent him orders via his phone, and said accomplice had decided that Mallory would die. Tancred said the man would film them and laugh at them, and that he'd probably beaten him up as he was drugged, considering the damage on his body. He said he was drugged again after Mallory was shot and that he woke up in the landfill with the corpse later that night.

 

Hux put the newspaper down and grabbed his mug to take a thoughtful sip. Law demanded that he contact the police and give them the evidence he'd received, and it was what most people would have done. But, thinking about it, he realized it might end up more trouble than it was worth. He was the “accomplice” now, and though cops might believe that he didn't know what he was doing, the public would still blame him for playing along once word got around. As a growing author, he couldn't compromise his career with this kind of sordid affair.

 

He picked up his phone and opened the message screen with the unknown number.

 

“ _You're for real, aren't you?”_

 

The answer was almost immediate. Mr. Serial Killer clearly didn't have much to do when he wasn't capturing people and torturing them.

 

“ _i told you so. now you believe me. you read the news?”_

 

“ _I knew Mallory. Did you do that on purpose? Do you know who I am?”_

 

“ _no. i just know you leave nearby from your phone number. i told you youre picked randomly.”_

 

“ _Your victims are people you consider criminals, aren't they? Why choose random, innocent strangers for your mind games?”_

 

“ _because youre not a victim. youre the player.”_

 

He set down his phone and thought about it. So the point of this wasn't to scare him, to traumatize him, to harm him; the killer wanted someone to look at what he was doing, to be impressed, to play along. He wanted a playmate – and Hux had provided exactly that. _You're just as cooperative as I want you to be_ , he had said before.

 

He took his phone again.

 

“ _If I'm the player, I need to know the rules of the game.”_

 

“ _its easy. every wednesday theres a new game. i give you two options and you have until midnight to pick one. if you cant pick, i kill both of them then i move on to another player. if you give me to the police i kill both of them then i move on to another player.”_

 

“ _Have you had many players before?”_

 

“ _a lot. most of them cant pick or they go to the cops. some of them think its a prank so they play one game but get scared the second time.”_

 

“ _It must be terribly boring for you.”_

 

“ _yes. youre the most entertaining one so far.”_

 

“ _If I'm the player, what are you?”_

 

“ _the referee.”_

 

 

 

He doesn't contact the unknown number after that. He tries to ignore what he knows will come on Wednesday; he tries not to feel the sting of excitement. It's wrong, it's wrong and he knows it, but somehow he can't wait.

 

When Wednesday night comes, he tries to distract himself with writing, but his phone sits right next to his computer, and he waits for the night to fall, when the odd vigilante usually texts him.

 

The ritual starts as it has the previous times, with a video.

 

A middle-aged woman, her skin orange with self-tanner, plump lips wrapped painfully around the gag, stares at him with anger. She tries to say something, but it doesn't come out as anything intelligible. A moment of darkness as the camera turns, then a young man's face; black hair neatly combed, odd-looking in this situation. Fine features and a terrified expression. Back to the woman, then again to the young man, and the video ends.

 

“ _janus lee. 43. shes a pimp. she takes in girls from eastern europe and promises them a good life, but she just leads them into prostitution and drugs. no family. dopheld mitaka. 27. hes a young lawyer. he works his hardest for his clients and is dedicated to his job. no partner, but his parents and sister are alive.”_

 

Hux frowns, reads the text again. It makes no sense.

 

“ _What is the meaning of this?”_

 

“ _spicing up the game. you have until midnight.”_

 

“ _I thought you only picked bad people. This kid hasn't done anything wrong.”_

 

“ _not that i know of at least. have you picked?”_

 

“ _Of course. Dopheld should live.”_

 

“ _i knew youd choose that.”_

 

He waits, anxious, somehow persuaded that the killer is going to break his own rules, that he'll kill the innocent instead, just to torture Hux, to try and make him feel bad for something he hasn't even done.

 

The video comes.

 

Lee stares at the camera with the same righteous anger as before. It reminds Hux of the few times his mother got mad at him.

 

“Say something to my friend, Janus”, says the same odd, distorted voice as the last time, and the hand Hux has come to know tugs her gag down.

 

“You little freaks will get caught”, she spits out immediately, like she's just been waiting to say something. “You can't play with people's lives like this, I--”

 

“You would know a lot about playing with lives, wouldn't you?”, comes the strange voice, mocking, sneering. “You do a lot of that with all those girls you push into sex work.”

 

Janus scoffs. She's not scared, Hux realizes, she's just royally pissed.

 

“I don't force them to do anything. They're free to leave, if they have anywhere to go. I was like them at that age, and--”

 

She doesn't get to finish. The hand shoots to her neck and grabs, squeezes, hard, and she chokes and gasps for air that won't come to her lungs.

 

The struggle is endless. Minutes pass as Hux watches the woman struggle where he assumes she's bound, trying to escape the merciless grip of the referee. There would be something pathetic about it, was it not for the fire in her glare. She's still righteously angry, despite her impending doom. Her expression doesn't soften as her eyes close and her spasms slow down. Eventually, she goes still, but even in death her mouth is twisted with rage. The video cuts off.

 

“ _thanks for playing. see you next wednesday.”_

 

“ _What's your name?”_

 

“ _tf?”_

 

“ _What do I save your number as?”_

 

“ _oh.”_

 

“ _kylo ren.”_

 

“ _thats my name.”_


	4. The Executor and the Punisher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hux’s weekly rendez-vous with the clearly unstable vigilante he knows only as « Kylo Ren » is not something he should be awaiting as he does._

Hux’s weekly rendez-vous with the clearly unstable vigilante he knows only as « Kylo Ren » is not something he should be awaiting as he does. Yet, on the next Wednesday, he finds himself fussing about his apartment uselessly, picking up books with no intention of reading them and writing one or two bland sentences into his current project only to promptly delete them. He knows he won’t be able to focus on anything but his phone, so he eventually picks it up to look at his recent messages.

There aren’t a lot of ongoing threads: one with his father, who sends him messages once every few months to keep him updated on the family (out of a sense of duty, Hux supposes, as neither he nor Brendol Hux Senior really are family-oriented men); one with Phasma, his editor, with whom he discusses his literary plans and who occasionally tries to coax him out of his apartment for drinks; one with Rey, Phasma’s friend whom he’d “absolutely needed to meet” according to Phasma, and with whom he’d exchanged all of eight texts before the conversation ran out; one from his bank who sends him automatic emails to inform him of the state of his account.

And, of course, there’s the thread of messages with Kylo Ren, but he painfully ignores that one and picks Phasma’s name instead.

 _“How are you?”_ , he sends.

He waits a minute or two, until the typing icon appears and a response comes.

_“What do you want??”_

He raises an eyebrow, somewhat offended.

_“I’m trying to engage conversation.”_

_“Don’t give me that, you only ever talk first if there’s something you want, otherwise I always have to contact you”_

She’s right, as annoyed as he is to admit it. He searches for an appropriate answer for a moment, and then types:

_“I have a new idea for a novel.”_

_“Already?? You’re not done with Starkiller yet.. Call me”_

He presses the call button and Phasma answers almost immediately.

“I hope you’re not planning to abandon ‘Starkiller’. It’s your best work so far.”

“The other ones weren’t that bad.”

“I’m not saying they were bad”, she sighs, “But ‘Starkiller’ is really captivating. You’ve taken all the good things from old sci-fi tropes that have always worked and gotten rid of all the boring clichés, and you’ve come up with something that will blow minds. I will _not_ let you abandon that for one of your weird historical fictions.”

“I’m not abandoning Starkiller, I just think…” He pauses, searching for words. “I just think I need a break from it. I want to try out something new. Maybe just a short story.”

“A short story? You never write a short story, Bren. You try, and then you end up with a novella, and we can never sell it. If you’re going to write a novel, then write it, but keep it as a side project from ‘Starkiller’.”

He nods, and then remembers he’s on the phone.

“Alright.”

He can almost hear her relax on the other side of the phone. He’s never been a difficult writer, but he knows some of hers were just difficult to handle, and she’s worried he’ll turn out like them.

“Now that we’re on the same page, so to speak”, she says, with a smile in her voice, “Tell me what that new idea is all about.”

“It’s horror.”

“Horror? _You?_ Really?”

“Psychological horror”, Hux specifies.

“Of course.”

“It’s about a deranged serial killer who thinks his killings are a game.”

“Cliché.”

“Wait. He considers himself the referee of that game, and he picks two victims each week, and gets a random person to pick which one will die – that’s the player.”

“How does he do that?”

“Phones. He sends videos and texts to a random number.”

“What if the police traces his number back?”

He frowns. He hasn’t actually thought of that. How does Kylo Ren deal with that?

“Well, I imagine he’s using a burner phone. Maybe he’s made it untraceable somehow, or he uses a different phone with each player.”

“You need to do research on that”, recommends Phasma. “It will be a huge plot hole if you can’t have a convincing reason for him to not get caught. What happens then?”

“Most people refuse to play along with him, and then eventually, he finds a guy that does. That embraces his role as a player.”

“Why?”

He frowns, again, and thinks of it for a second.

“I’m not sure… I think… I think it makes him feel in control. He is the one to choose life or death, a punisher of sorts. He’s powerful.”

Phasma hums pensively on the other end.

“Then what?”

“I’m not sure yet”, he admits. “I think he might set on some sort of investigation to find out the killer’s identity, except he’s constantly very close to the line from player to victim, because when Ky- when the killer figures out he’s going to be found by his player, he’ll want to get rid of him.”

“That’s interesting. I didn’t expect you to be the type for horror, but this could actually be good. What kind of dynamic do they have?”

“I… I don’t know. They trust each other, I think, because they’re both in this together, they’re accomplices, but they aren’t sure where the power sits between them, and they could be each other’s doom easily.”

“Does it evolve into some twisted romance?”

He raises his eyebrows, and goes silent for a moment.

“ _What?_ ”, he eventually says.

“Well, you’ve created an interesting dynamic between two fucked up characters who want to trust one another but can’t really, and you’ve quite the track record for writing gay fiction, you know.”

“I just happen to write about gay couples because I’m gay. I don’t write gay fiction. I write historical fiction, and science-fiction, with gay couples in them.”

“I’m just saying, it seems like your killer and his player would do for a great dramatic couple. That could really shock the audience, I’m sure it would sell.”

“I’ll consider it”, says Hux, with no intention to consider it whatsoever.

“Anything else you’ve thought of?”

“I’m not sure if I should introduce torture scenes yet.”

“As long as you can keep it classy. With what you’re working with here, gore for the sake of gore will be boring and overdone. If you must get some torture done, describe it in a personal way. Get emotional with it. You’re great at getting emotional on paper.”

He sniffs disdainfully. He doesn’t consider himself an emotional man. Hell, he barely has any feelings, and no empathy whatsoever. He was a relentless emotional bully in school and he’s never been able to keep a steady partner, because they always said he was too cold and distant. He isn’t emotional in his writing; he just imagines what it must be like, using tropes he’s read and flowery writing, and people fall all over it.

“If you say so.” And then, anxious that Ren might message him and he’ll be too busy on the phone with Phasma to answer: “I’ve got to go now, I’m exhausted. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Goodnight”, says Phasma, and she hangs up.

He returns to his message screen with a sigh. Whatever motivated him to talk to Phasma about this? Maybe under the pretense of a “new novel”, he just wanted someone to talk to about this. One way or another, maybe writing a story about this isn’t a bad idea. It’s not like Kylo Ren could sue him for plagiarism, and it could actually sell well. Phasma seemed excited at least after he told her he’s not abandoning ‘Starkiller’.

He stops thinking about any of that as his phone buzzes and he sees a new video message from Kylo Ren.

Darkness, then a face. Gaunt, a man in his fifties, barely any grey hair left, squinting like he needs glasses but has lost them. He looks pathetic in the light that comes from the phone, recoiling from it like a scared animal. The camera stays on him long enough for Hux to take in his face, then moves.

Another face. Thin, sickly, black hair mussed up – Dopheld Mitaka. He looks worse than last week, but Hux recognizes him immediately, and he exits the video before it cuts off, ready to demand answers.

_“lothaire flater. 55. he used to own a bakery, but his business failed and now hes homeless. hes been shoplifting for years to feed himself. dopheld mitaka. you already know him.”_

_“What is the meaning of this?”_

_“same rules as usual. you make your pick until midnight or they both die.”_

_“I’m not going to send a homeless man to his death for shoplifting.”_

_“then you can pick mitaka.”_

_“You were supposed to release him.”_

_“no. i only said i wouldnt kill him. you told me to make it more of a dilemma.”_

_“You’re a sick bastard.”_

_“so ive heard. have you made your choice?”_

He bites his lip in thought. All the others were fairly easy to pick: one crime was always far worse than the other. But now? He has to rely on other standards to choose. Mitaka is young, a lawyer, he has a future. Flater is a homeless man who looks at the end of his life, with no choice of a career. He knows who he has to choose.

_“Let Dopheld live.”_

He waits painstakingly for the video he knows is coming, and when it comes he considers not watching it; he thinks of deleting the message history, erasing the number from his phone, and ignoring any further attempts from Ren to get him to play. But even as he considers it he knows he won’t do it.

The video is shorter than the previous ones.

“Close your eyes”, says the deep voice he knows by now. Flater doesn’t answer for a moment. “Close your eyes”, says the voice again.

The old man closes his eyes, and immediately a hand appears, with a revolver, and shoots him in the head. He hears a noise that he thinks comes from Mitaka at the detonation. Flater’s body slumps bonelessly to the side.

He feels anger as he closes the video, and quickly types:

_“Don’t ever do this kind of shit again.”_

_“ok.”_

_“I’m serious. If you do this again I won’t play with you anymore.”_

A long pause. He thinks Ren is going to ignore him again, like he’s done before, but then the typing icon appears.

_“im sorry.”_

He sighs, and puts his phone away. He feels washed out. He closes his open computer and moves to his bedroom to get some rest.


	5. Scepticism

Hux begins working on his new novel on the side of his work on 'Starkiller'. It helps him focus on something else than the odd dreams he has at night, from which he wakes up in exhilarated sweat; visions of a tall figure in a black mask, strong, tall and powerful, with those large, gloved hands he's seen many times now. Sometimes, he's tied up to a chair with the figure standing before him, a revolver in one hand and a phone in the other. Sometimes, more enjoyably, he's sitting somewhere comfortable, in the dark corner of a basement, and he watches as Kylo Ren deals with his victims. Sometimes he awakes with an uncomfortable erection that he has trouble willing away.

 

The dreams seem to remain in the back of his mind throughout the day, even as he tries to get work done or goes out to eat a sandwich in the nearby park. While he sits on a bench eating, he no longer thinks about epic spaceship battles for his novel as he usually does – instead he thinks about Kylo Ren. It's becoming a problem, frankly.

 

On Saturday he does something unusual: he picks up his phone and texts Ren.

 

“ _Do you have hobbies when you're not playing weird games with people's lives?”_

 

The answer takes a long time to come; Hux thinks Ren won't respond, that it would be against his weird set of rules to talk to him when he's not playing, or perhaps he's scared of giving away too much information about himself. But then, he does reply.

 

“ _im a pretty good boxer. i collect haunted items. i feed mitaka.”_

 

“ _Let that poor kid go, he's done nothing wrong.”_

 

“ _actually i think thats exactly why i want to keep him around.”_

 

“ _What?”_

 

“ _i dunno. hes innocent, hes a good person. im not. it feels like torturing myself a bit to keep him here, for the contrast, so i do it.”_

 

Hux doesn't understand, so he abandons the subject.

 

“ _What do you mean, you collect haunted items?”_

 

“ _i buy them from ebay. loads of dolls. paintings. sculptures. random objects. sometimes i go in abandoned places and collect them, but most of the time i just buy them.”_

 

“ _You're a madman. I don't know why it took haunted dolls for me to realize it.”_

 

“ _i didnt expect you to believe in it considering you didnt believe in my game at first. but just as the game, it doesnt mean its not true.”_

 

Hux scoffs out loud.

 

“ _Spirits don't exist, clearly, or I'm sure you'd be haunted to death by the ones you've killed.”_

 

“ _no. they were weak-minded people. if they were sensitive to higher powers in their lives, maybe id be able to feel them, but so far none of them have been.”_

 

“ _What the fuck.”_

 

“ _i have a haunted sword. do you want to see it?”_

 

“ _Is it an actual sword?”_

 

“ _what? yes”_

 

Hux supposes Ren is not about to send him an impromptu dick pick.

 

“ _Fine. Show me.”_

 

It takes a few minutes for a picture to come. It's thankfully not a dick pick. It is, in fact, an actual sword – a long one with a red guard encrusted with some kind of gemstone. Hux wonders if it's fake.

 

“ _So what did you name it?”_

 

“ _i dont name a fucking sword.”_

 

“ _You're not as mad as I thought you were if you don't name your haunted items.”_

 

“ _i mean the dolls have names when i buy them so i use them but i dont name the other ones.”_

 

“ _So how does a sword get haunted, exactly? Slayed one too many enemies?”_

 

“ _well actually the crystal in the guard is haunted, not the sword.”_

 

“ _Uh-huh. Of course.”_

 

“ _you think its bullshit but its true.”_

 

“ _So you must be surrounded with spirits, as you are. Your life must be hell.”_

 

“ _no they listen to me. when i bring a new one home they always make a fuss but then it calms down pretty quickly after we have a talk.”_

 

“ _After you have a talk. Oh Lord.”_

 

“ _shut the fuck up, asshole. stop insulting my beliefs.”_

 

Hux decides he's probably done enough of teasing a known murderer, so he stops that for the day.

 

He's back in full force two days later.

 

“ _Have you done your captures for this week's game yet? I always wonder how that goes.”_

 

“ _ill explain it to you someday”_ , comes the almost immediate response. _“its a complicated process but ive got it down to an art. i was well trained.”_

 

“ _Trained? You mean you had, what, a mentor in murdering people in your basement?”_

 

“ _you could say that. ill tell you more if i have more reason to trust you.”_

 

“ _How can you not trust me? We're basically in this together, so to say. By now I'm an accomplice.”_

 

“ _yeah but if the police catches me i cant sell you out. i dont know who you are.”_

 

“ _I don't know who you are either.”_

 

“ _still.”_

 

“ _Would you tell me more if I told you who I am?”_

 

“ _maybe.”_

 

He hesitates.

 

“ _I can't tell you who I am. Maybe you'd kill me.”_

 

“ _what, have you done something to deserve it?”_

 

“ _Mitaka hasn't done anything yet he's in your basement.”_

 

“ _id like to have you in my basement. itd be nice.”_

 

“ _This is exactly what I'm talking about.”_

 

“ _dont be so dramatic i wouldnt kill you ;)”_

 

“ _Then what would you”_

 

“ _Wait”_

 

“ _Are you flirting right now?”_

 

“ _maybe”_

 

“ _You don't know who I am. You don't know what I look like. You don't even know my gender.”_

 

“ _doesnt matter. id probably fuck you honestly”_

 

At least it's honest, Hux supposes.

 

“ _so, what do you look like? whats your gender? tell me then”_

 

“ _I am male.”_

 

“ _you didnt say what you looked like. how old are you? i bet youre like 50 you type like an old man.”_

 

“ _I'm 34.”_

 

“ _younger than i thought.”_

 

“ _You were ready to flirt with a 50 year old?”_

 

“ _maybe i have a thing for rich old men”_

 

“ _I never said I was rich.”_

 

“ _you sound kinda rich. and hot.”_

 

“ _That's ridiculous. You can't possibly know any of that from how I type.”_

 

“ _send me a selfie”_

 

“ _No.”_

 

“ _come on”_

 

“ _Stop it. I'd never send you a photo of me. You could track me down very easily.”_

 

“ _why? are you well known?”_

 

“ _That's not what I said.”_

 

“ _maybe i do want to track you down. maybe i want to meet my best player.”_

 

“ _I'd rather not.”_

 

“ _come on i know you get off on this”_

 

“ _What.”_

 

“ _i mean why else would you keep playing. i can make it worth your while trust me”_

 

“ _I cannot believe you're coming on to me. Do you have no shame?”_

 

“ _ive sent you videos of me killing people im pretty sure i can send you pictures of my dick and its not more shameful”_

 

“ _Do NOT send me pictures of your dick.”_

 

“ _:(”_

 

Hux sighs. Well, he should have expected this: Kylo Ren is completely, definitely crazy. He decides to not respond to anymore texts for the evening.

 

His phone buzzes again after a minute.

 

“ _alright. lets play a new game. ill keep our sessions for wednesday and all since you like them so much but i want to try something else.”_

 

He refuses to ask what that might be and pretends to ignore it, even though he knows the text is marked read for Ren.

 

“ _im gonna find you.”_

 

He feels a shiver go down his spine at this new message, and hesitates – considers blocking the number entirely, but he rationalizes. All that Ren knows about him is that he's a man living in this city. There are many men in this city. He can't be found.

 

“ _and when i do im gonna fuck you.”_

 

Good Lord, the man was completely insane. Hux turns off his phone so the inane messages won't disturb that night's work.

 

In the morning, when he turns it back on, there's a new unread message from Kylo Ren:

 

“ _if you dont answer it means you agree with the rules.”_


	6. The Petting and the Teasing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapters: because I'm updating daily, if one day I have less time to write it means I have to sacrifice length, and I don't have a lot of time today. I'll try to make next chapter longer, though.

He doesn't speak to Ren again until Wednesday night: he doesn't want to make the man think he has actually agreed to his terms, and he is unwilling to enter a conversation where he would try to argue with a madman intent on finding him (who knows what kind of trouble this could bring him?). He decides trying to have a civilized conversation with Ren was a bad idea. The man is clearly only interesting when he's killing people. He should have expected it.

 

Still, this does nothing to quell his excitement for a new game, and so he finds himself on Wednesday night with a terrible soap opera playing on the TV as background noise, a carton of sushi he ordered, and his phone in one hand, impatiently waiting for the messages he knows will come.

 

It feels to him like he's had to wait longer than usual, but it's probably just because he keeps growing more eager each week. The video starts with the familiar face of Dopheld Mitaka. The young man is pale, probably from not having been out of the basement for weeks now, and looks sleepy, like he's just been woken up by Ren (possibly, he has been). The camera stays on him longer than it usually does, and eventually, uncharacteristically, a gloved hand comes forward to cup Mitaka's face and stroke his cheek with a thumb. Mitaka leans slightly into the contact, and Hux hears Ren's deep voice mumble something, but he can't make it out. Mitaka looks up at what Hux assumes is Ren's face, though, so he probably heard. The gloved hand retreats and the camera moves to a second person.

 

A man with balding brown hair and droopy eyes, who looks on the verge of tears. Hux notices that his gag looks much tighter and more uncomfortable than Mitaka's. It digs into the fat of his cheeks, the fabric stained with tear tracks.

 

The camera moves back to Mitaka, and the gloved hand comes back to brush a strand of black hair from his sweaty forehead. Back to the man, and then the video cuts off.

 

“ _dopheld mitaka. you know all about him. karl simmons. 49. he was convicted for child sexual assault some time ago, but he only got 5 years for the 11 years he molested his niece for, so i dont think hes gotten whats coming to him yet. he has two kids that his ex wife wont let him see.”_

 

There's no reflection involved in this game, and he's halfway disappointed and halfway happy that Ren isn't making him pick between two innocent people again.

 

“ _Let Mitaka live. And you should let him leave too, good Lord, he looks sickly.”_

 

“ _give me a hint.”_

 

“ _What?”_

 

“ _i googled your phone number but i cant find who you are. give me a hint for me to find you. any hint.”_

 

“ _No.”_

 

“ _give me a hint and ill give you the video.”_

 

“ _I don't need to see the video to know you've killed him. I doubt you could resist the urge.”_

 

“ _you dont care to just know whether i did it or not. you want to see me do it.”_

 

“ _Preposterous.”_

 

“ _alright then goodnight”_

 

“ _You're insufferable. Fine.”_

 

“ _i knew wed come to an arrangement.”_

 

“ _I'll let you see as much of me as I've seen of you.”_

 

“ _?”_

 

He opens his phone's camera and stretches an arm out; then, he takes a photo of his hand and sends it to Ren.

 

“ _You're lucky I haven't put on gloves.”_

 

“ _nice hand. nice freckles. are you a ginger? i bet youre a ginger. are you eating enough youre all boney?”_

 

“ _I'm in perfect health, thank you very much.”_

 

“ _is that the hand you jerk off with?”_

 

Hux groans out loud and considers an appropriate answer to this.

 

“ _That is none of your concern.”_

 

“ _is that the hand youll jerk me off with when i find you??”_

 

“ _Are you going to send me the video?”_

 

The answer is a new video, and Hux reclines in his sofa as he watches Ren blow Simmons' brains off with his usual revolver. He replays the video several times. By the fourth loop he realizes he feels sickeningly aroused and exits the video.

 

“ _enjoy it?”_

 

“ _It was adequate. I liked it better when you strangled that woman.”_

 

“ _noted. so are you a ginger?”_

 

“ _I already gave you one hint.”_

 

“ _that means yes doesnt it”_

 

“ _It means nothing.”_

 

“ _ok. im gonna look around the city for a skinny ginger with a holier than thou attitude and it shouldnt be too much hard work.”_

 

“ _I never said I was a ginger.”_

 

“ _do you have freckles on your ass?”_

 

“ _I'm going to bed now. Goodbye.”_

 

The phone buzzes again when Hux puts it down on the coffee table, but he ignores it as he moves to his bedroom.


	7. Party Favors

A month goes by faster than Hux thought it would. He condemns a young man for sexual assault, a middle-aged woman for robbery, another for car jacking and some old fool for desecrating graves. Mitaka remains a permanent fixture, always there in the videos, in the choices he's offered. It should make the game boring that he never has to really hesitate anymore, but it actually makes it better. He feels like he's doing double the work when he plays now: not only is he ridding society of criminals, but he's also actively keeping an innocent man alive as long as he plays.

 

Because time seems to pass so easily, so fast suddenly, he's forgotten about the party until Phasma comes knocking at his door.

 

He's only wearing a t-shirt and some gym shorts – his usual sleeping attire – when he goes to answer the door, which would be underdressed for any occasion, and even more for an impromptu meeting with his director.

 

“What are you doing here?”, he blanks out as he sees her at the door.

 

“Picking you up”, says Phasma. “I see you're not ready. You'd better get dressed quick.”

 

He frowns, tries to understand what's going on. Did he have something planned for the evening? Phasma seems to know what he's thinking about.

 

“Classy party at Sullivan's. Remember that? You can't miss out on this.”

 

Oh, right. He does remember now. Jamie Sullivan is not an author he likes, but one he begrudgingly respects: she made a name for herself by writing bad romantic stories for teens and young adults, and it's working out great for her. Her name is everywhere, she has a movie based on one of her books and another planned for next year, and she has a steady following that will probably continue to grow and support her as long as she keeps putting out the insipid novels.

 

Jamie Sullivan is also, surprisingly, a big fan of his own novels, even though she's a lot more well-known than he is, and since they met at a lecture she has been inviting him to all sorts of events. Including this summer party, which Phasma insisted he could not possibly miss until he accepted to go: a lot of Sullivan's guests would be influential authors, agents and publishers, and it was a perfect occasion for some networking. She also said he needed to show up to at least some of Sullivan's parties, lest the woman take offense and try to ruin his reputation.

 

“Ugh”, he groaned, and slapped his own forehead in realization. “How long do we have to get there?”

 

“Long enough, if you hurry up. Good thing I went to pick you up early. Put on something nice.”

 

As Hux let her into his apartment and invited her to sit on the sofa, he thought of how useless the advice was. He _always_ put on something nice. Hux was not the kind of person to wear anything he didn't think would be a perfect outfit for a first impression: you meet new people every day, after all, and you also always need to keep your reputation up with the ones that already know you, so each item of clothing he owned was carefully picked out so that they all matched together and created a perfect wardrobe. Loads of dress shirts, a few sweaters, some turtlenecks, dress pants and leather shoes, in tones of black, green, grey and brown. He knew the dull colors made his freckled skin and bright hair stand out more, so even the most boring of his outfits could always make a statement. It was how he wanted it.

 

Sullivan's summer parties weren't fancy enough to require a suit, so he picked out a white polo and matching white shorts, with black dress shoes and a pair of completely useless round sunglasses. The outfit was somewhat extravagant for his usual tastes, but it was fit for a party in a summer evening's heat.

 

He came back to the living to find Phasma looking through his fridge, wearing the frown she usually had when he was making poor life choices (Hux thought he made very little poor life choices, prided himself on it actually, but Phasma always managed to be bugged by something he'd done).

 

“What is it?” he asked, already annoyed.

 

“You don't have a lot of food in there. Are you eating enough?”

 

“I'm taking great care of myself, thank you, _Mother_.”

 

“Your mother doesn't even check on you.”

 

“That's a low blow.”

 

“Are you ready yet?”

 

He nodded, and grabbed his keys and wallet as they left the apartment, going to Phasma's car. It was one of Hux's eccentricities not to own a car even though he could clearly afford it. His father had insisted that he got his driver's license, and he had hated every second of it. He simply despised driving: it made him feel on edge at all times, like he might just cause an accident, crash and burn at any moment, and once he's gotten the license he'd only ever used it to begrudgingly drive some drunk college friends home. He didn't have any more drunk friends now, and therefore didn't drive at all.

 

He climbed into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt as fast as he could to avoid Phasma telling him to (he hated when she told him what to do even though he was going to do it anyway, because he was very fucking serious about car safety, for Christ's sake).

 

He watches the city outside the window while Phasma drives them. He's always liked the nights in the city, especially hot summer nights when the people are outside. The buzzing streets filled with crowd, the restaurants and bars and the donut shops and the street musicians, it all makes him feel safe, surrounded, alive. Just because he's a solitary man doesn't mean he wants to feel lonely. Hux needs the city, because as much as he likes to be on his own in his apartment, he still needs to know he isn't really alone. Life is buzzing around, pressed against the walls of his apartment, visible through the windows, just outside of his door, and he likes to remember it.

 

As they approach Sullivan's house – or rather, her mansion – he is suddenly aware of two very problematic facts.

 

One: it's Wednesday night.

 

Two: he's left his phone at home.

 

“Oh no”, he groans, desperate and angry.

 

“What is it?”, asks Phasma.

 

“I forgot my phone.”

 

“You can borrow mine if you need to make any calls.”

 

That's not the problem, but he obviously can't say anything, and he knows Phasma won't agree to drive him back, would take it as some sort of excuse to avoid the party. He has to go, and come home early enough that he doesn't miss the midnight deadline on the game. It will be okay, he reassures himself.

 

They step out of the car and to the house. Sullivan herself greeted them at the door. She looked regal in her tight black dress, hopefully hoping to look younger than the 45 years she'd be celebrating this year. Her light brown hair was carefully brushed over her shoulders in a way that, while perfectly intentional, looked carefree to the unknowing eye, and intensely reminded Hux of his mother.

 

She seems genuinely happy to see them, and he puts on his most charming smile and smoothly thanks her for the invitation. It's boring, being nice to people, being trivial, being sociable, but it's useful, and he does it whenever he needs to. It works. Sullivan loves him; not just because she likes how he writes, but because she actually thinks they're something akin to friends, if only slightly. It's practical. It works like that with most people. He only drops the pretense with Phasma, who he begrudgingly trusts – and also, recently, with Ren. Maybe it's the anonymity that allows it. He's not sure himself.

 

Sullivan leads them into the house and leaves to entertain other guests. This will be a long evening, he knows as some literary agent named Roger Parks approaches him and engages in conversation.

 

As he talks to the guests, he keeps picking up glasses to keep his hands busy and sips them slowly through the evening. There's no telling how time passes: he can't see any clocks, he doesn't have his phone, and he forgot to put his watch on, too. He goes from one conversation to another, promptly forgetting most of what he's been talking about, but still keeping up his nicest front, making people like him.

 

It feels like ages have passed before he walks upon Phasma in the small crowd, a group of women around her listening to her talking. He interrupts as politely as he can to ask for the time.

 

“It's almost midnight, Hux”, she says disinterestedly, and he swears under his breath.

 

“I need to go right now”, he says, feeling panic rise in his gut.

 

“I'm not leaving this early!” Phasma is frowning.

 

“Call me a cab”, he demands, and she does with some degree of annoyance.

 

He waits in the now cool night in front of the house for the cab to come, and realizes he won't make it to his apartment in time. Surely Ren will wait for him, though. He's been a good player so far; Ren will guess he wasn't able to come any earlier, he'll understand.

 

When he climbs into the cab, it's 11:58; he has no illusions that he'll somehow be able to arrive at his apartment in two minutes. Surely Ren can give him ten extra minutes, he's his best player!

He arrives inside his apartment at 12:13. He rushes immediately to where he left his phone and finds a string of messages waiting for him. He doesn't bother checking out the video: he doesn't have time for that.

 

“ _magnus voll. 36. hes a cop who shot an unarmed teen while on duty. the police department covered up for him. he has three kids and a wife. dopheld mitaka. you know him. pick before midnight.”_

 

“ _have you made your choice yet?”_

 

“ _hello?”_

 

“ _is your phone off?”_

 

“ _youre not even reading these.”_

 

“ _what the fuck is up with you.”_

 

“ _its getting late.”_

 

“ _im gonna have to kill both of them if you dont choose.”_

 

“ _hello???”_

 

“ _?”_

 

“ _?”_

 

“ _its almost midnight.”_

 

“ _fine.”_

 

“ _you can do what you want you FUCKING CUNT.”_

 

“ _im still going to find you you know.”_

 

“ _ITS GOING TO BE A LOT LESS PLEASANT FOR YOU”_

 

The messages stop here. Hux feels a growing uneasiness as he reads, and he quickly types a response.

 

“ _I'm sorry. Something came up and I didn't have my phone with me. I didn't mean not to respond.”_

 

The answer is almost immediate.

 

“ _do you think this is a fucking joke?”_

 

“ _No. I told you, it was out of my control.”_

 

“ _you cant afford not to have your fucking phone with you. this is NOT that kind of game. I told you what happens if you dont pick. what happens if you dont fucking pick???”_

 

“ _You kill both of them.”_

 

“ _yeah i did that. and i fucking choose another player”_

 

“ _It was an honest mistake, Ren. I really had no other choice.”_

 

“ _you want to keep playing?”_

 

“ _Of course.”_

 

“ _then beg.”_

 

He pauses, staring at the last message. He never begs anyone – ever. People often don't give him what he wants at first, but he has ways to make them bend to his will. He thinks if he just leaves Ren to be for a couple of weeks, he'll grow tired of finding no other players and will come back…

 

But what if he doesn't? The thought of this dangerous charade ending should be relieving to Hux – no more danger, no more killing – but it isn't. It's just disastrous. He does want to keep playing.

 

So he begs.

 

“ _Please.”_

 

“ _please who?”_

 

“ _Please, Ren.”_

 

“ _tell me what you want.”_

 

“ _I want to keep playing. Please.”_

 

A long pause, then the typing icon.

 

“ _fuck thats hot”_

 

“ _Are you getting off on this?”_

 

“ _are you??”_

 

“ _Did you really kill them both?”_

 

“ _yes. its the rules.”_

 

“ _I had thought you didn't kill innocent people.”_

 

“ _well wouldnt it have been your fault if i had?? youre supposed to play by the FUCKING rules! youre supposed to answer me! youre not supposed to LEAVE!”_

 

“ _So you didn't do it?”_

 

“ _i let mitaka go. he shouldnt have been here anyway.”_

 

Hux sighs as he relaxes back against the pillows of his bed. Good Lord, this game is going to kill him, if Ren doesn't do it first.

 

“ _I'm glad you did.”_

 

“ _give me another hint. you owe me it.”_

 

He considers it carefully, but has to admit Ren is right: he does owe him something. He opens his phone's camera and takes a picture of his body laying on the bed. Clearly it can't be too much help: his face isn't showing and his clothes aren't things he usually wears. He sends the picture to Ren.

 

“ _oh fuck”_ , sends Ren smartly in answer.

 

“ _youre hot”_

 

“ _i mean i cant see your face”_

 

“ _but you look hot”_

 

“ _do you always get on your bed when youre talking to me?”_

 

“ _No.”_

 

“ _just tell me where you live”_

 

“ _Where's the fun in that? I thought you wanted to find me.”_

 

“ _i want to fuck you just tell me where you are”_

 

“ _No. You're a homicidal maniac.”_

 

“ _would you tell me if i wasnt a homicidal maniac?”_

 

“ _Even less.”_

 

“ _ugghhh”_

 

“ _what do i call you?”_

 

“ _I'm obviously not telling you my name.”_

 

“ _cmon give me something to call you. you know what to call me.”_

 

“ _Fine. Call me General.”_

 

“ _kinky”_

 

“ _It's not.”_

 

“ _why general”_

 

“ _My father used to be a general in the army.”_

 

“ _another hint!!”_

 

“ _Fuck.”_

 

He angrily sets down his phone and goes to take off his clothes, brush his teeth, and settles into bed. Before he goes to sleep, though, he reads the last message Ren sent him.

 

“ _goodnight ;)”_


	8. Knighthood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating this weekend! I was quite busy. I'll try to get back into my regular updating schedule. Sorry this chapter is a bit short!

It's an awkward few days after that failed game. Hux feels that Ren has forgiven him – he doesn't think he should need be forgiven, as he has done nothing wrong really – but he still feels like trying to engage in conversation would be like trying to gain said forgiveness. He has never crawled or begged to be excused before, and he does not like feeling like he does now – but still he wants to speak to Ren.

 

Maybe it's the break of his usual isolation that is attractive; or maybe he just enjoys talking to someone who doesn't know who he is, his anonymity allowing for the sincerity he never gives anyone else. He isn't sure what it is, but one way or another, it's become pleasant to exchange a few words with Ren in-between games, even though it's usually nothing but sarcastically asking how his haunted sword are doing, and refusing to give him identity hints.

 

Hux has been sitting at the dinner table alone for longer than usual now – half an hour, though he rarely takes more than 10 minutes to finish his meals. Through dinner, he's been scrolling back and forth in the chat history with Ren, re-watching videos and smirking at some messages. It's made his eating much slower, but now his plate is empty, he's filled his glass with wine for the third time, and he's feeling ready to do some talking.

 

_“How is Beth doing?”_

 

_“what?”_ , answers Ren a minute later.

 

_“I'm assuming at least one of your haunted dolls is named Beth. There's always a Beth doll. Is there an Annabelle?”_

 

_“not all dolls are named the same. theres no annabelle.”_

 

_“But is there a Beth?”_

 

_“theres an elizabeth i guess”_

 

_“See: I knew it. Haunted dolls are so predictable.”_

 

_“no theyre not. theyre wild and unpredictable when you first get them.”_

 

_“Let me guess, they make your fine china fall off the shelves? Doors slamming in the middle of the night? Maybe the TV turns randomly to static?”_

 

_“shut up. you have no idea what youre talking about.”_

 

_“I'd consider shutting up if you were any threat to me, but you're really not, so I won't. Did Beth make blood come out of your sink?”_

 

_“you wont be that hard to find. how many 34 y o redheaded rich son of a general do you think there are in this city?”_

 

Shit, Ren was right: he had given way too much information about himself during their conversations. Of course, the detail about his father had been the worst of it.

 

_“I never said I was rich.”_

 

_“your bedroom + your clothes. youre definitely rich.”_

 

_“If I'm so easy to find, why aren't you at my doorstep right now?”_

 

_“maybe i am.”_

 

Hux frowns.

 

_“jk”_

 

_“i dont know where to look for military officials family so thats a problem”_

 

_“Thank God you're resourceless.”_

 

_“im not. its just easier to find criminals than men whose names you dont know.”_

 

_“So does Annabelle ever turn the lights on with her ghost magic?”_

 

_“i told you theres no annabelle.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Hux reads the news on Thursday with his morning coffee, and immediately frowns.

 

A man was found out in the desert, bloody and half-naked, claiming that he'd been captured along with a young girl by a tall man wearing a mask who had been contacting an accomplice with a cellphone and sending videos of his captives to them. According to the victim, the man had said “this one took long enough to pick”, then had killed the young girl and set him free.

 

Hux immediately put down his mug and reached for his phone.

 

_“Why are you on the news? We didn't have this week's game yet.”_

 

_“im not on the news”_

 

_“They found a guy in the desert who said a masked man captured him with someone else and played the game with them.”_

 

And then suddenly, a painful idea comes to him.

 

_“Do you have other players?”_

 

He shouldn't care. This isn't anything exclusive. This is a game. This is stress relief, this is vigilante work, this is what makes him feel better once a week. But he feels a deep jealousy now.

 

_“no. thats one of the others.”_

 

_“One of the other what?”_

 

_“the other referees. im not the only one.”_

 

Hux just stares at the screen, bewildered. He believed the game was Ren's invention, a lone, crazed madman seeking to fulfill his bloodlust… But could it be anything much bigger?

 

_“What are you?”_

 

_“i am a knight of ren. we all are.”_

 

_“Who are the others?”_

 

_“just people, like me. theyre all around the country. we dont meet very often, but we keep in touch.”_

 

_“How many of you are there?”_

 

_“just seven”_

 

Hux feels like there are many questions to be asked, but he can't find one to type. This is a whole new view on Ren's gruesome business. Is he part of some sort of cult? A group of vengeful assassins working to better the world? A handful of crazed psychopaths with god complexes? He can't tell.

 

_“Why the players?”_

 

_“it is my masters plan. i cannot tell you why.”_

 

_“You have a master?”_

 

_“someone has to pull the strings. im only the referee.”_

 

_“What is the point of it all?”_

 

_“order. we are bringing order in the chaos.”_

 

And that is a goal Hux can certainly agree with.


	9. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know Hux has a new canon name and all, but it's stupid and I don't like it, so his name here remains Brendol Junior.

Hux hasn't written a word in the 'Starkiller' project for weeks now, but his new, psychological horror story is growing longer every day. At first, he just followed the actual events, changing the names of himself, Phasma and Ren, but then he started writing something different. He doesn't want to stick too close to real events, just in case the “Knights of Ren” get caught and his novel starts to seem weirdly informed, so he's written Ren's character as a weirdo who obeys the voices of haunted dolls he collects. It feels a bit like making fun of Ren, which he really likes.

 

When Phasma calls him up to ask how 'Starkiller' is going, he lies and says he's done some progress, even though he hasn't done any. He loves that novel – he feels it's his masterpiece, his first real brainchild, so much superior to everything else he's written – but somehow he can't seem to focus on it anymore. It seems like real life lately has just become a lot more interesting than his work of fiction is, and when he's not directly talking to Ren, he's fantasizing about their game in writing. It brings the question of whether 'Starkiller' was, all along, just his own selfish, narcissistic way of escaping reality – the main character is very much inspired by himself – but he tries to ignore the idea.

 

So when Phasma invites him for the weekend with herself, her friend Rey, and “some other guys”, he considers refusing and staying inside to message Ren and work on his new novel. But after a moment of reflection, he realizes he hasn't gone out of his house in days, he hasn't changes his pants for two of those days, hasn't showered the day before, and hasn't shaved this morning. He's letting himself go over this, he's growing disorganized. He's supposed to be… Sanitized, clean, in control. Seeing the outside world will do him good.

 

He takes a long shower and scrubs himself thoroughly, feeling nasty for having missed his shower yesterday, and shaves carefully. He parts his hair on the side neatly and puts on nice clothes – a patterned green dress shirt with the sleeves rolls up which he tucks into the tightest pair of jeans he can find. Relaxed enough for a hangout with some acquaintances, but still looking put together.

 

He doesn't forget his phone this time even though it isn't Wednesday, and he swings his messenger bag over his shoulder as he leaves the apartment. The streets are crowded in the summer, and he likes it, feels comfortable navigating the movement of so many people. He doesn't blend in; he feels powerful there, surrounded by so many. He couldn't explain why, but it feels good.

 

The bus takes him to a stop where Phasma is waiting for him; he's never been at Rey's house, so she insisted to take him there in case he gets lost with just directions. He never gets lost.

 

He greets her with a handshake as he always does: Phasma insists on them. He likes that about her.

 

“How are you?”, she asks, like she can see that he hasn't been taking care of himself even though he's clean-shaven and well-dressed. Maybe he's lost weight, or he has dark circles.

 

“I'm doing fine. I've been working a lot lately”, he says, and hopes that she'll just assume that's why he looks the way he does and won't ask anymore questions.

 

“That's good, but don't overwork yourself. You're looking a bit tired. Let's get going.”

 

They walk together in companionable silence; neither of them is very talkative, and they appreciate that about each other. At least, Hux appreciates that about Phasma. They don't speak another word until they get to Rey's home, which is a lovely salmon-colored house in a tiny, dead-end street. There are plants growing at the windowsills and an old “Welcome Home” doormat.

 

Phasma rings the doorbell, and quickly enough, Rey opens the door. Hux hasn't actually met her before, but he's seen pictures of her with Phasma. She's a small girl with a weird hairstyle and a bright smile.

 

“Phasma!”, she says happily, pulling her into a hug that would be very awkward if Rey wasn't made taller by the steps in front of the door. “And you must be Hux”, she adds as she turns to him. He offers a hand for a polite handshake and his usual pleasant smile.

 

“Come in”, says Rey, leading them inside. “Poe, Finn and Ben are here.”

 

He assumes those are the “other guys” Phasma mentioned before. They take off their shoes before walking through a corridor covered with pictures of Rey, an old man with grey hair and a big smile, and loads of other people Hux doesn't know. Rey's family, he expects. At the end of the hallway is a small door – Phasma actually has to hunch over a bit to not hit her head – that leads into an equally small kitchen. It looks cramped, but that's mostly because every available surface is covered with jars of spices, utensils in pots, old cookbooks stacked messily, and potted plants, many of which seem to be aromatic herbs.

 

What little space appears left empty is currently occupied by three men: one of them is tan, has curly, luscious hair, and a handsome face; another has dark skin and hair and a happy smile; the last looks way too big for the room, tall frame full of awkward limbs, a lot of moles, and a big nose. Hux observes each one of them quickly, before taking a seat next to the handsome tan guy as Phasma sits next to Rey.

 

“Hux, these are my friends Poe and Finn” - she points to the two short men sitting next to him - “and my cousin Ben” - the tall, awkward man.

 

“A pleasure to meet you”, he says courteously. “I am Brendol Hux, but please, just call me Hux.”

 

Poe shakes his hand with a grin and nods. “Phasma's friend, then? I've heard a bit about you.”

 

“I'm mostly her client”, he says, even though he couldn't possibly deny that Phasma is his friend. She's even the only real friend he has; everyone else he's just keeping around for practical use.

 

“I've read one of your books”, says Finn. “The one in ancient Rome. I really liked it.”

 

Oh, dear. 'The Empire' had been his first book, mostly based on his father's intense love of ancient Rome, and while it had been successful, he actually hated it. It was amateur work, really, and there was nothing personal about it – it was like the entire novel had been written to make his father happy. It had worked, somewhat.

 

“I'm glad you did. It was an enjoyable book to write.” A lie. “Do you read a lot?”

 

He was eager to divert the conversation from himself. It worked, thankfully, and Finn and Rey started talking of the late Sang Mallory's work, and how surprised they were with the discovery of his mysterious death. The story quickly plunges into the mysterious case of the kidnappings and murders, a conversation in which only Hux and the silent Ben do not participate in. A glance at the tall man tells him that not only he's not talking, he's also clearly not listening: he's got something under the table that he's playing with. Playing video games on his phone, clearly. Hux doesn't point out the clear disrespect, but still – he doesn't want to be here either, but he's not being rude about it.

 

He wants to avoid the conversation to avoid seeming like he knows too much, but Phasma pulls him in.

 

“You like that case, right? You're writing a story inspired by it, aren't you?”

 

Ben looks up at that, and Hux quickly looks away.

 

“Well, it's very far-fetched. When the police actually finds out what is going on, I'm sure my story will be nothing like it. We don't know much about the case yet.”

 

“What's the story so far?”, asks Finn.

 

“Well, this mad serial killer is basically contacting random people via their phone numbers and sending them pictures of people he's kidnapped. Then he's making them pick between one of them, or they all die.”

 

Finn and Poe nod, vaguely interested. Rey seems excited. Ben… Ben is staring right at him, his lips pressed together thinly, frowning darkly. What's wrong with that guy? He's clearly got it out for Hux, but Hux isn't sure why; he hasn't even said anything to him yet. Maybe he's just unfriendly.

 

“I watched a movie a bit like that”, says Rey. “It was about some guy using CCTV to make people choose what happened to his victims. I don't remember it much but it was scary.”

 

The discussion goes onto horror films. Hux feels a bit left out; he's not one for horror, except for classics such as Saw or the Shining, and he hasn't much to add to the conversation. Even weirder, Ben is still staring at him with something in between anger and curiosity, and he tries his best not to look back at him. What a creep.

 

“I didn't know you wrote horror”, says Rey suddenly, apparently trying to pull him into the conversation.

 

“Ah, well, I don't really. I've never had a project like this one before. My father didn't like it much when I was writing historical fiction, I can't imagine how disappointed he will be when he discovers I'm writing cheap horror.”

 

Ben speaks up finally, for the first time.

 

“What does your father do?”

 

He has a deep, rough voice. Hux is a bit surprised by it.

 

“He was a general in the army. He's retired now, but he'll still disappointed I'm not following in his footsteps.”

 

Ben smiles for just a second, an almost animal smirk, then he returns to his phone under the table.

 

Phasma and Finn start a debate with him on the respectability of writers and the importance of writing through history, and he feels more comfortable talking about that. He especially likes it when people point out how important writers are. It strokes his ego the right way.

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

 

“Ah, just a moment”, he excuses himself. It might be Ren. He wouldn't want to accidentally ignore him.

 

He pulls the phone out and checks the message.

 

“ _where are you right now?”_

 

“ _At a small gathering with my friend's friends. I'm not giving you my exact location, of course.”_

 

He puts his phone back into his pocket.

 

“What were we saying?”

 

Across the table, Ben grins obnoxiously at his phone.

 

*

 

 

When he leaves, he does so with two jars of marmalade that Rey insisted he took with him – her father made way too many, she says, the whole kitchen is sticky because of his antics. Phasma walks him back to the bus stop even though he clearly doesn't need to, and he sits for the whole ride looking stupid with his two jars of marmalade in his arms. He struggles with them to unlock his apartment's door, and finally manages to walk in. Just as he sets the jars into his pantry, his phone buzzes.

 

“ _i know who you are”_ , says the new message from Ren.

 

A cold shiver runs down Hux's spine. It can't be, though. He hasn't given Ren any new hints.

 

“ _And who do you presume I am?”_

 

“ _brendol hux.”_

 

He stays silent and immobile for a long moment, staring at the screen. Did Ren figure out who his father was? Did he give himself away somehow in their previous conversations?

 

“ _You have no idea who I am.”_

 

“ _i know exactly who you are, brendol. but you just go by hux, dont you? its not hard to find where you live online. i can be at your door at any moment.”_

 

He hurries to his door to make sure it's locked. It is.

 

“ _How did you find me?”_

 

“ _you gave me just the right hints. youre too easy. or, i guess maybe youre not, youve been playing hard to get. didnt we say i get to fuck you if i find you?”_

 

“ _No, you said that. I never agreed to it.”_

 

“ _youre fucking hot. ive seen you.”_

 

Has Ren found pictures of him online? Or has he actually been stalking him? Dumbly, his first thought is that if Ren followed him outside today, he must have looked really stupid with his two jars of marmalade.

 

“ _You're a psychotic killer who believes in haunted dolls and is part of some murderous cult. You're not the kind of person I would go to for a one-night-stand if I did one-night-stands.”_

 

The only response is a photo. When it charges, Hux lets out a loud “augh!”. It's the impromptu dickpic he's been fearing. This is also the first time he sees Ren's hand ungloved; it's big, pale, and his nails are painted black. And even that huge hand can't seem to cover the length of the cock he's holding.

 

“ _You're disgusting!”_

 

“ _cmon i know youre gay everything you write has a gay couple in it”_

 

“ _That doesn't mean you should send me random pictures of your cock!”_

 

“ _well do you like it?”_

 

“ _Do not send me anymore pictures.”_

 

“ _are you sure? cause i think you like it. did i tell you gingers are my type? you have great hair. its good you keep it so neat cause i want to mess it up.”_

 

“ _Leave me alone.”_

 

“ _guess this is a new game then”_

 

“ _What?”_

 

But Ren doesn't answer anymore that night.


	10. The Toys And The Weapons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had kind of a hard time getting this one out, so sorry it's so short :(

When Hux goes to pick up his newspaper in the morning, he finds a package at his doorstep. It's a matte black box, with no writing, no address, no name. Obviously, it hasn't come in the mail. He takes it inside along with the newspaper and sets it on the coffee table, proceeding to ignore it until he's had his coffee and read the paper. He doesn't like breaks in his routine, and he doesn't trust this package anyway.

 

Eventually, he puts his mug in the dishwasher and sits on the sofa to examine the box. He vaguely considers the possibility of it being dangerous, but it's way too light to be some kind of bomb, and he's not exactly an overly famous and controversial author anyways. He opens it slowly.

 

There's bubble wrap stacked inside, and when he pushes it off, it reveals a porcelain face – a ginger doll, with green eyes and an innocent, blushing smile. Hux immediately wants to cringe. What is this? He picks the doll out of the box. It's wearing a frilly, white dress and tiny black shoes. Hux thinks his mother would probably like it. He's not sure what he feels about it.

 

In the box remains a note, that he also picks up.

 

_i thought this doll looked a bit like you, doesnt it? her name is millicent. shes pretty difficult but hopefully youll get along cause youre also difficult. - kylo ren_

 

A fucking haunted doll. Ren sent him a god forsaken haunted doll, as a gift, for some obscure reason that only spiritually-inclined cultist serial killers could understand, probably. He doesn't think the doll looks anything like him, except for the obvious color palette: it has chubby cheeks and a friendly smile, stubby little limbs and only a few light freckles on her nose, and he's all the opposite.

 

He examines the doll for a few more moments silently before sighing and getting up. Where is he going to put this atrocity so that it doesn't mess up the minimalist aesthetic of his apartment? Certainly not in the living room – Phasma might see it when she visits, and that would be horrible to explain. He steps into his bedroom instead, and sits the doll down on a shelf where he keeps a few photos of his family – mostly out of a sense of duty – and copies of his own books – mostly out of ego.

 

The doll looks like it's looking straight at him, but Hux, being a logical man, knows that to be false. All dolls give off this kind of vibe – and he's only reasonably on edge from a crazed serial killer knowing where he lives.

 

He needs a tougher lock on his door, maybe. Then again, he has two pretty tough locks on his door anyway – if Ren can break through those, he doubts a third will be any help. Should he move out? If Ren is watching him, that would be useless. Anyway, would the man hurt him in the first place? If the worst he'll do is give him stupid dolls, Hux thinks he can handle it just fine. He grabs his phone again.

 

“ _What's your new game?”_

 

“ _i cant tell you thatd ruin it.”_

 

“ _Well, I can't play if you don't tell me the rules.”_

 

“ _youre not playing. i am.”_

 

Hux thinks about that for a moment. If he isn't the player, then he isn't sure what his role is, but he doesn't like it. Is he a referee this time? Or – more uncomfortable to think of – a victim? His phone buzzes in his hand.

 

“ _theres one thing ill tell you though. when i win the game, i will come to you.”_

 

He considers the text for a moment before grabbing his keys and leaving the apartment. If the locks on his door aren't enough, he'll get some better security for himself.

 

*

 

He won't get a gun, because he doesn't like them anymore, but he gets pretty much everything else: pepper spray, one of those big cans of it that are made so you can't accidentally spray it in your own face (never too sure); a taser, three million volts, with an “easy grip”, said the man who sold it, for some reason. He's fairly sure if he needs to use the damn thing, the grip is the last thing he'll have on his mind. He even gets a brass knuckles taser, but that's mostly because it sounds impressive – he doubts if he needs to defend himself against sudden home invasion, he'll actually have the time to use it, but at least it makes him feel powerful.

 

He returns home with the pepper spray shoved in his coat's pocket and the tasers in a bag he holds firmly. He wants to think that he's being paranoid; that Ren isn't following him, isn't anywhere around, won't do anything to him; but he knows that his fear is rational, and that he actually has every reason to feel endangered. It isn't a nice feeling at all. Hux likes feeling on top of things.

 

How will he know what Ren looks like, if the man is following him around? All he knows is that he has big hands and a lot of moles, based on the one time he saw his hand ungloved. And he paints his nails black. And, from what he read in the news, he's tall and broad – but then again, he isn't sure traumatized victims are really a good source of information. They could easily imagine Ren more impressive than he really is if they're afraid of him. And Hux likes picturing Ren as shorter than he is.

 

He returns to his home quickly, locking both locks – he usually only uses one – and going to his bedroom. He hides the brass knuckles under his pillow – he doubts he would actually have the time to defend himself if someone came into his bedroom while he was sleeping, but it will give him peace of mind. He puts the taser into his trousers' front pocket. It's almost too big to fit there, but it just looks like he has a really cumbersome phone.

 

His actual phone buzzes to let him know he has a new message.

 

“ _send me a pik of u”_

 

“ _What for? You said you already knew what I looked like.”_

 

“ _yea but i wann see u rite now”_

 

“ _What is wrong with your writing? It's even worse than usual.”_

 

_And then, immediately:_

 

“ _Are you jerking off?”_

 

“ _mite b”_

 

He huffs out something that is definitely not a laugh and most certainly a sound of disgust, and grabs the brass knuckles from under the pillow. He slips them on, then takes hold of the taser with the same hand, and the phone with the other one. He extends his arm out and snaps a selfie of his shit eating grin as he shows off his tools to the camera.

 

He takes the knuckles off as he forwards the photo to Ren.

 

“ _:/”_

 

“ _Am I not up to your standards? I'm sorry.”_

 

“ _why u have taser??”_

 

“ _Because a crazed serial killer knows my address and has been leaving creepy gifts at my doorstep.”_

 

“ _im not gon hurt u”_

 

“ _Can you stop jerking it while we have this conversation?”_

 

“ _i wouldnt hurt you. ive been nothing but nice to you.”_

 

“ _Certainly, but you're a murderous maniac and you might change your mind anytime. What makes you think I haven't committed some sort of crime that you might consider grave enough to make me your next victim?”_

 

“ _well have you?”_

 

“ _If I did, I obviously wouldn't just tell you.”_

 

“ _i promise im not gonna kill you or nothing.”_

 

“ _I'm sure of that. That's why you've been leaving dangerously haunted items at my apartment.”_

 

“ _thought you didnt believe in hauntings though?”_

 

“ _I don't, but you do, so that's telling enough.”_

 

“ _millicent wouldnt hurt you, she might throw a few objects around but shes not bad.”_

 

“ _That's just great. I'm glad to know you plan to have our minions destroy my home before you come by and murder me.”_

 

“ _i wouldnt :(”_

 

“ _Well, I don't know that for a fact, so for now I'll keep the taser handy. Don't get any ideas about surprising me.”_

 

“ _i wouldnt anyway im nice.”_

 

“ _Are you really?”_

 

“ _yes. im a nice guy.”_

 

“ _You know, usually people who say they're nice guys are the least nice of the bunch.”_

 

“ _am a good boy”_

 

“ _I'm certain of it.”_

 

“ _cmon u kno i couldnt hurt you i just wanna make u feel good”_

 

“ _We will NOT be having sex. I will make that clear right now for future reference and so you don't get any ideas.”_

 

“ _u play hard 2 get but i kno u want it?”_

 

“ _Are you jerking off again?”_

 

“ _yea”_

 

“ _Delete my picture right now.”_

 

“ _:(”_

 

“ _You're impossible. I hate you.”_

 

“ _:)”_

 

“ _Stop being a cocky little shit right now.”_

 

“ _sorry ill be good”_

 

“ _Oh, my God. Are you getting off on this?”_

 

“ _You're terrible.”_

 

“ _yea tell me im naugty”_

 

“ _naughty*”_

 

Hux sits on his bed with a heavy sigh and brushes a hand through his hair.

 

“ _Fine. You're naughty.”_

 

“ _ok no u have to say more”_

 

“ _You're terrible and I'll tase you unconscious.”_

 

“ _:/ ok if thats what ur into”_

 

“ _No, it isn't.”_

 

“ _theres nothin wrong w somnophilia but theres easier ways to get me unconsciosus”_

 

“ _I'm not into that.”_

 

“ _i wouldnt mind yknow u can ride me while i sleep ill let u do it”_

 

“ _I'm not sure why you've somehow decided that I would bottom, for you of all people.”_

 

“ _idk im bigger than u so its kidn of a given?”_

 

Well, there go his hopes of being taller than Ren.

 

“ _That's not how it works.”_

 

“ _but ud look so good tho sitting on my cock with that smile of urs”_

 

Hux falls back onto his bed with a sigh, trying to will down his growing hard-on.

 

“ _would u choke me?? u sound like a chokin kinda guy”_

 

“ _Considering you're the one to bring it up, I think you're actually the choking guy.”_

 

“ _yea sure im not against it u can choke me anyday”_

 

“ _u can choke me till i pass out”_

 

“ _then keep riding me”_

 

“ _I get the vibe that you're the one who is into somnophilia. Do you project your messed-up kinks onto all of your sexual partners, or am I special?”_

 

“ _so u admit ur my sexual partner now??”_

 

Hux makes a grunt of disdain and refuses to respond. He won't greet that with an answer, and he needs a cold shower. He gets up and walks to the bathroom. His phone buzzes again just as he's about to set it down next to the sink.

 

“ _u r special”_


	11. Early Hours

Hux wakes up before his alarm to the sound of glass shattering. It's never a good sound to wake up to, and he promptly opens his eyes to look at the bedroom window, his hand already halfway to the bedside table looking for the taser he left there. But the window is intact.

 

He still grabs the taser as he sits up – someone could have broken another window, after all. He quickly realizes this isn't the case, though, as he looks at his shelf. The three photos of his family (one of him with his two sisters, one of his mother, and a family portrait) have fallen down, and the glass of the frames broke on impact. He grabs his slippers from under the bed and puts them on before he gets out of bed, and goes to the kitchen to get a broom.

 

The clock reads 5:03 when he's done cleaning up the mess. This is far earlier than he usually wakes up – as he works from home, he takes the liberty to only wake up at 8 in the morning and get a full night of sleep before he starts working. Hux doesn't indulge in many things, but sleep is one of them.

 

He has nothing to do for the 2 hours coming, so he goes back to his room and gets dressed – he wears a short-sleeved dress shirt, a jumper, and some trousers. The jumper is kind of big on him, but considering it's 5 in the morning, he doesn't think he'll meet many people on the streets. He puts on his coat, since it'll still be chilly outside at this hour, and heads out.

 

The streets are mostly deserted – too early for most workers, and too late for most clubbers. A few cars pass him and he crosses paths with a couple passersby, all seemingly too tired or too drunk to pay him any attention. He enjoys the city like this, when he knows people are around – it doesn't feel empty – but nobody disturbs him. There's no crowd, no hustle, only the mild, unrecognizable sounds of the city.

 

He heads to the 24/7 convenience store down the street. He's alone there except for the cashier, who watches a small, old TV fixed to the wall. He picks up a plastic bag and grabs two cans of that coconut milk drink he likes (it's far two expensive for what it is, but he still buys the stuff), a Caesar salad, and a box of frozen chicken bites. He stops on his way to getting some frozen broccoli as the door chimes as it is opened.

 

A tall, dark-haired man walks in, and Hux promptly recognizes him – it's Ben, Rey's asocial, phone-addicted cousin. As soon as he enters, the man walks straight at him, clearly having recognized him, but doesn't start conversation.

 

Hux avoid a sigh as he takes matters into his own hands.

 

“Hello. I didn't know you lived around here.”

 

Ben cracks a weird smile and nods, hesitantly.

 

“Uh, yeah, I do. Came here to pick up...” He looks around as if he doesn't actually know what he's about to say. “Cup noodles.” The man promptly turns to the shelf on his left and starts picking up outrageous amounts of ramen cups.

 

“Those are terrible for your health, you know?”

 

“Yeah, well, so is frozen stuff. You don't know what they do to that stuff so it stays good while it's frozen. Full of chemicals.”

 

“They just put it in the cold. That's how it works.”

 

Ben looks like he's about to start a debate, but hesitates, and then closes his mouth. Hux thinks he has a weird face. All the proportions are off somehow, but it's still fairly handsome. Weird guy.

 

“What woke you up so early?”, he asks.

 

“Taking a morning jog”, says Ben. He is indeed wearing sports pants, Hux notes, but he doesn't look like he's been running at all – there isn't a bead of sweat on him and he's wearing a pretty big coat for a runner.

 

“Well, have a good one”, he says as he grabs his broccoli and turns to the register. Ben steps behind him, though, apparently having nothing to pick up but his cup noodles, and Hux stays uncomfortably aware of his presence at his back while he pays for his items.

 

When he leaves, thankfully, Ben stalks off in the other direction. He's not running.

 

 

*

 

The rest of the day is uneventful. Hux takes a quick shower, shaves what little stubble he has, gets some toast for breakfast and a coffee as he reads the paper. Around 10, he gets a message from Ren asking if Millicent has caused him any trouble, and he says of course not, it's a _doll_. He has his salad for lunch and spends most of his day painstakingly trying to get some work done on 'Starkiller'. He knows what happens next, but he is struggling to write it just the right way so it comes out as good as he imagines it. At 2 in the afternoon, he gets a text from his father saying that his sister has found a summer job and his mother's health is getting better. He doesn't respond.

 

Around 8, Ren sends him a video.

 

First, darkness, then a face.

 

A young man with chubby, acne-scarred cheeks, wild eyes and plump lips wrapped tightly around his gag. His skin shines slightly, with sweat, or maybe tears, and his brown hair sticks to his scalp. The camera moves. Another face. A young woman, pale skin and hair dyed black – he can see the obvious blonde roots. She has some traces of eyeliner smudged on her cheeks and a terrified look to her eyes.

 

The message comes next, as usual.

 

“ _hugh kraftman. 26. set a nursing home on fire three years ago. he was never caught, but he had the poor idea to brag about it while drunk. cindy robustelli. 21. she desecrates graves in her spare time, and likes to vandalize churches at night. she frequents those wannabe satanist forums and talks about what she does while posting pictures.”_

 

Hux pauses what he's doing to take some time to reflect, before sending an answer.

 

“ _Where people harmed in the nursing home incident?”_

 

“ _3 dead and 12 injured”_

 

“ _Let Cindy live. At least she doesn't harm living people.”_

 

He waits impatiently for the next video; it seems it takes longer to come than usual. He hears a bang in his room, but while he looks up, he doesn't get up to investigate just yet. The video comes.

 

Kraftman's panicked face is the first thing he sees. Then, Ren's hand comes into frame, the leather of his glove shining in the camera's light. His fingers close around Kraftman's neck and squeeze. Hux watches the struggle for life with hungry attention. He can feel himself growing hard in his pants and he reaches down to palm himself lazily. He shouldn't, but he has no will to stop, really. He strokes himself idly through his trousers as he watches Kraftman's face turn red, then purple. The man is really taking a long time to pass out. Hux likes that. There are choked noises coming from the young man, and Hux's slow stroking becomes gradually more frantic.

 

He licks his lips a few times, and relaxes into the sofa. Ren's grunt of effort makes him shudder, and when the deep voice says “just _die_ already”, he comes in his pants.

 

On his way to the bathroom to clean up, he finds the source of the noise he heard earlier: on his self, all of his books have fallen down.

 

Is this shelf defective, he wonders? It doesn't seem to be. He stacks the books back on the shelf, and gives Millicent a suspicious glance.

 


	12. The Work and The Play

Hux checks out the doll on Thursday morning, but not because he thinks it's haunted; rather, he tries to look for a hidden camera. He takes off all her clothes, but he can't seem to see any place where an objective could sit, and anyway, why would Ren ask him for selfies if he had Millicent to watch him through? He still examines it carefully, thinking he probably should have done that earlier – when he received it, actually. When he turns the doll upside down, he hears a loud scratching sound, and looks up, alarmed, to find a tear in his duvet cover: it looks like something has clawed through it. He groans. That one was expensive.

 

He lets the doll fall to the ground carelessly as he gets up to look at the duvet, and immediately hears another noise behind him: a scratching coming from the door. He turns around to find claw marks on the tapestry.

 

“None of this”, he growls under his breath, before he even knows who he's talking to. He picks up the doll and holds her up at eye level. “There will be _none of this_ in my house. If you're going to cause trouble, then so help me, you can go back to wherever it is you come from – or, as far as I'm concerned, the trash bin outside.”

 

He doesn't get any kind of response, so he puts the clothes back on the doll and sets it in its place on the shelf.

 

Thursday is the day Hux works out. He hates working out with every fiber in his body, but his father didn't put him through military school for him to grow a beer gut and flabby arms with age, so he still goes running once a week to keep his good conscience, and then he walks most of the time so he feels like he's doing something healthy.

 

He puts on his green sports shorts and a light tank top, and puts in his headphone with his favorite jazz playlist. Phasma says jazz is not workout music, but fuck what Phasma thinks, he's not going to listen to 'Eye of the Tiger'.

 

He opens his fridge to find the green smoothie he prepared the day before, as usual, to sip at the end of his run. It's disgusting, but the recipe online said it was great for sports. He shoves the smoothie and his wallet in his sports bag and heads out, resigned for an hour of running and another of doing weird yoga exercises in the grass of the nearby park.

 

The day is early, but he's not the only runner in the park. He sees many young girls in bright lycra tops and Chris Evans look-alikes in those ball-hugging sports shorts that are supposed to bind your muscles or whatever it is they actually do. They're all faster than he is, but he comforts himself by thinking they probably won't run for as long as he will. Many people take a fifteen minute jog. He doesn't have the will to put himself through it every single day, so one hour a week will have to do. At least he has good lungs.

 

Hux's mother doesn't have good lungs. She smoked too much, through all her life; he has many memories of her in his childhood, lounging around the house with a cigarette holder (who even uses those anymore?) in her evening dress, the room around her slowly filling with the smell of tobacco. Hux's mother is sick now; she can't go out so much anymore, because her lungs tire so fast, and she has to breathe from a huge inhaler every morning and every night, and then she coughs through most of her sleep. The last time he went home to see his parents, Brendol Hux Senior was sleeping in what used to be his bedroom, because the coughing kept him up otherwise.

 

Sickness runs in the family, at least on his mother's side. His sisters have inherited the bad genes: Lena is filled to the brim with allergies that keep her inside all spring and most of summer, and their mother has fired more than one maid for failing to clean her room well enough for her dust allergies; Nastasia has asthma and heart issues for which she needs to get checked monthly by a doctor. Hux considers himself lucky: he's the healthiest of the family so far. Sure, he sneezes whenever he's too close to Phasma's dog, he bruises way too easily, and he loses weight worryingly easily, but he's not sickly. Even his father, who used to be a strong man, got shot in the army, and now he drags around a bad leg and a blind eye. If he was superstitious, he'd worry about his future.

 

When he finally finishes his run, he's out of breathe, and he drops in the grass, takes out his smoothie and starts gulping it down like there's no tomorrow. One good thing about the smoothie is that he's usually too thirsty to notice how bad it tastes. He downs half the bottle before shoving it back into his bag and starting his yoga exercises.

 

He's in a very uncomfortable position doing an upside down bridge which he doesn't think he'll hold very long when he notices a familiar figure on the trail. It's Ben again; he's walking a small, ginger dog (a Pomeranian?) and looking around fervently like he's looking for something. He spots Hux eventually, and smiles awkwardly as he heads towards him.

 

“Looking for something?”, Hux asks as he drops down from his bridge.

 

“Uh, just wondering where I should let Bee-bee run. He's kind of restless.”

 

“Let him run downhill and back, that will tire him. I didn't peg you for the Pomeranian type.”

 

Ben actually blushes at that (ridiculous) and shakes his head.

 

“He's not mine, that's Poe's dog. I, uh, I offered to walk it for him.”

 

“How generous of you”, says Hux.

 

“Are you doing yoga?”

 

“I'm trying, at the very least.” He wishes nobody he actually knew, even if only a bit, saw him like this. “I won't say I'm very good at it.” He tries a cow pose to prove that he can actually do something. Ben just stares at him.

 

“So”, he starts, trying to make this less awkward, “What kind of name is Beebee anyway?”

 

“Uh, Luke named him. That's my uncle. He always gives pets weird names, and Poe came over when he adopted Bee-bee, so Luke got the chance to name him.”

 

“I see”, says Hux, dropping into a down dog. Ben keeps staring at him like nobody took the time to teach him how to hold a conversation on his own.

 

“Well, good walk to you”, Hux eventually offers, hoping Ben will go away. It's getting hard to talk because he can't breathe when he does yoga.

 

“Uh, yeah, bye”, mumbles Ben, dragging the dog away before it has time to try and lick Hux's arm. In the corner of his eye, Hux can see him looking back to him as he walks off. What a weird guy.

 

After yoga, Hux heads back, feeling sore and in need of a shower. His father always told him exercise is like a drug, and after a few weeks you just want to keep going, but he never did take a liking to it. He guesses he's just not the addict kind, or something. He gets home and immediately takes a long, cold shower to rinse off the sweat and the heat of the day.

 

He walks into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his hips and checks his phone. There's two new messages.

 

Phasma:

 

“ _Tomorrow night party at Jessikas? You coming??”_

 

Ren:

 

“ _ive been following you. i know what youre doing. you know you look really hot when you do yoga. whats that pose called where youre basically just pushing your ass out in the air?? slut pose??? fuck”_

 

“ _Stop following me around. It's creepy. I bet you're some weird old man.”_

 

“ _no im young”_

 

“ _Liar.”_

 

“ _im younger than you are.”_

 

“ _I don't go for kids.”_

 

“ _im not a kid im not THAT young either. i have my own house and everything.”_

 

“ _That's a relief. Here I was thinking you were killing people in your momma's basement, in the same place you slept.”_

 

“ _im not. my basement is very well equipped.”_

 

“ _For murder. How great.”_

 

“ _well we all have our hobbies yours is slutty yoga poses”_

 

“ _I hate yoga. I only do it because I'm trying to be healthy.”_

 

“ _youre trying to give me boners”_

 

“ _If you stopped following me it wouldn't happen.”_

 

He exits the conversation to answer Phasma.

 

“ _Who will be there?”_

 

“ _Not many people.. Me, Jess, Rey, a few others you don't know. A dozen people at most so dont worry.”_

 

“ _Alright, I'll come, but don't expect me to stay up too late._

 

A new message from Ren:

 

“ _i wont stop following you eventually youll see me too and youll be like oh shit and then ill fuck you”_

 

“ _I won't be like 'oh shit'.”_

 

“ _youll be like oh darn!”_

 

“ _I am an adult. I'm very capable of using swear words. I just won't say 'oh shit' because you're probably not that impressive.”_

 

“ _tell that to THIS”_

 

“ _Stop sending me photos of your dick.”_


	13. The Drinking And The Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Hux is kind of a music snob. I hate him and I love Nicki Minaj.

The party is, as Hux should have expected, not nearly as small as Phasma had made it out to be. Surely it started out with inviting a dozen people, but somewhere in there everyone invited brought along more people, and then more invites must have been sent out, because when he and Phasma show up at Jessika's house, it is crowded.

 

It reminds Hux unpleasantly of those frat parties you always see in teen movies. Nobody is holding big red cups, but that's maybe the only visible difference. Five minutes in, and he's already spotted one couple making out obnoxiously in a corner.

 

“You said it would be a small party”, he hisses at Phasma, trying to find someone to blame even though he knows Phasma was sincere. “This is by no definition small.”

 

“Well, Jess told me it would be small.”

 

Hux grumbles unhappily as he makes his way to the table where drinks are set out. Hux doesn't drink recreationally: he only drinks socially. But this is a social event, and honestly, he's going to need a drink to bear with it, so he goes into pouring himself a glass of beer (there's no wine, of course). Then another.

 

He gravitates around the drinks table as he observes the crowd. There aren't many familiar faces, though he sees Poe and Finn dancing some kind of boogie at one point. Twenty minutes into the party, it appears that Phasma has cleared up a table and is now laying on it, bench pressing Jessika. He pours himself another glass and drinks as he watches.

 

“She's pretty impressive, isn't she?”

 

He turns to see Finn: he's apparently stopped dancing to grab himself a soda.

 

“Indeed. She could have a good career in body building if she wasn't busy being my editor.”

 

Finn laughs politely at that, even though it really isn't that funny.

 

“She actually wanted to be an athlete, you know? Way back in high school.”

 

“Really?”, asks Hux. “You went to high school with her?”

 

“Oh, yes. We were kinda friends for a while. We had some beef over, uh, teenage stuff, you know, stupid stuff. We didn't really talk again until Rey met her.”

 

“Interesting”, says Hux, who has already lost all interest in this conversation.

 

“Well, Poe's waiting for me, I better go back.” Finn is gone promptly. Hux brings his drink back to his lips. Phasma is now bench pressing Rey, who is laughing really hard.

 

He watches the show idly for a few minutes before someone else comes up to the drinks table, obnoxiously close to him. He turns to look at them and, of _course_ , because fate couldn't possibly leave him alone, it's Ben again. He wishes he could stop running into Rey's awkward cousin already.

 

The man is currently pouring himself a mixture of – is that vodka and… Faygo? This is the worst thing he's ever seen. Hux tries not to let his disgust be apparent on his face as Ben turns to him.

 

“Hey”, says Ben, “Fancy meeting you here!”

 

His nose is a bit red and so are his cheeks. Hux thinks he might be slightly drunk (this early into the party?).

 

“Hello. It seems we keep meeting.”

 

“Yeah, uh, I'm here with Rey. She asked me to come, and uh, she said you and Phasma would be here… I mean, that's not why I came. But I mean, I knew you'd be here, so it's not, uh, a coincidence. I guess.”

 

“Indeed”, says Hux, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable. “Are you having a good time.”

 

Ben takes a large swig from his terrifying drink and nods.

 

“I guess, it's alright. Uh, you wanna dance or something?”

 

He wants to say no, of course. But Ben's cheeks are very red now, and he has those big, wet puppy eyes – they're not enough to convince Hux, but he thinks he might go crying to Rey or Phasma if he's rude, so he nods resignedly.

 

Ben takes his arm, very carefully, as if he's scared he might break it by grabbing too hard (Hux isn't _that_ skinny, God!) and leads him onto the improvised dance floor. Hux quickly finishes his drink and throws the plastic cup at the table (it bounces off and disappears somewhere behind it).

 

Some popular music is playing (Hux couldn't tell the difference between Taylor Swift, Nicki Minaj and Rihanna for the life of him, so he's not sure what this is) and Ben takes him into the crowd and starts awkwardly dancing.

 

Hux has no idea how to dance. He never does at parties. His attempt mostly consists of hip swaying and moving his arm like he knows what he's doing. Ben is even worse, though, so it's alright. At least nobody is looking at them. Through the crowd, he manages to catch a glimpse of Phasma, now bench pressing a pretty girl with dark skin and a big smile, then Ben obscures his view.

 

The man actually looks kind of good. He's wearing a very tight shirt and he looks somewhat enticing with that flushed face and slight grin. Maybe Hux has drunk too much and this is why he suddenly thinks that way about a weird, long-limbed guy who thinks frozen vegetables need chemicals to stay good.

 

The music ends, and just when Hux thinks he's ready to go back to his place next to the drinks table, a slow track starts. Great, romantic music – now he'll get to see all the gross couples grinding on one another.

 

Then, before he knows it, someone is grabbing his wrists, and pulling them up, and then his arms are hooked around Ben's neck, and Ben is holding tightly on his waist.

 

“What's going on?”, he asks dumbly.

 

“Uh, dancing?”, says Ben, like it's obvious.

 

Exactly what he didn't need. Ben is far too close to him, and the room is too hot already for the excess body heat he's receiving. And anyway, he doesn't like being pressed up against strange people, be it in public transportation or at a stupid party. He wishes he hadn't shown up in the first place.

 

He looks over Ben's shoulder and over at Phasma, who is done lifting people, apparently. She looks back at him and he gives her a pitiful face to try and make her understand he's in trouble. Visibly it doesn't work: she only gives him a thumbs up and a wink.

 

“I'm not trying to get with him”, he mouths at her, but she doesn't get it, and the crowd closes around them again so he can't see her anymore.

 

“So, uh, you have nice hair”, says Ben.

 

Wait.

 

Is _Ben_ trying to get with him?

 

“Hum”, he says smartly.

 

“I mean, I like the color, I guess.”

 

“Okay”, he says. He's too tipsy to handle this reasonably.

 

Ben bites his lower lip, and Hux notices that one of his hands is slipping too low, so he moves his hip to avoid it going where it has no business going. Ben takes his hand off, which is a relief, and sets it on Hux's cheek, which is a disappointment.

 

“Uh”, says Ben. Then he's leaning in, and Hux starts panicking because this guy is _clearly_ trying to plant one on him.

 

He does the first thing he can think of and slaps him across the face.

 

Ben stumbles back, hits someone, grunts, and then stands awkwardly in front of him.

 

“I have someone else”, says Hux quickly before this gets any worse than it already is.

 

“Who is it?”, says Ben. He doesn't look like he doesn't believe him; he just looks numbly curious.

 

“His name is Kylo Ren.”

 

Ben looks sad for just a second, then he looks relieved, and, weirdly, smiles at him.

 

“Oh”, he says, and then he disappears into the crowd.

 

Hux watches him walk off, and then, quickly, heads back towards Phasma. He just wants to go home already.


	14. Revealing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one was hard to write out! 1. It was long. 2. It has smut, which I'm terrible at. But I tried my best!
> 
> If you're here for the story and would rather not read sex scenes, feel free to stop reading after this line: "Hux grins, and pushes him back into the mattress. Ren falls back obediently, looking up at him with a quiet calm that Hux likes on him."
> 
> Thanks again to everyone commenting! I'm very glad so many of you are liking the fic and say it makes you laugh or that you're waiting for updates!!

It's late Friday night, or early Saturday morning, Hux isn't sure. He got back home from the party early, unwilling to deal with the awkwardness and the crowd, and Phasma called him a cab like she does at most events she drives him to, because he never stays as long as she does.

 

He isn't sure what woke him up for a moment, and then the doorbell rings again.

 

He reaches for his bedside table and finds his reading glasses – he usually does some light reading before bed. He pushes the glasses away and his fingers find the taser.

 

He grabs it firmly. Easy grip, he remembers dumbly. Just what he thought he'd never think of when the time actually came to use the damn thing. Easy grip. He comes out of bed in his short and his night shirt and heads out into the dark corridor. He forgot to put on his slippers and the cold floor makes him shiver. The doorbell rings again.

 

He wants to shout at whoever it is that he's coming, but suddenly he isn't sure he wants them to know. Maybe he can make them leave if he just doesn't respond. How tough are the locks on his door? His hand is clenched tight around the taser. Easy grip.

 

He walks slowly to the door, trying not to let his footsteps be heard through it. Quietly, he leans in and opens the peephole, tries to peer through it. But whoever is out there hasn't turned on the lights in the hallway, and he can only see a darkened silhouette in what little light the moon is casting into the building.

 

Slowly, Hux opens one lock. Then the other.

 

He pulls the door open just enough to see who it is.

 

“Ben?”

 

The man is standing weirdly close to the door, but he doesn't look threatening. He doesn't look angry, or vengeful – in fact, he is smiling slightly. Hux's hand relaxes on the taser's _easy grip_.

 

“What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night, I was sleeping-- How do you know where I live?”

 

Ben's smile just grows wider.

 

“Hux, come on”, he says. His voice is deep and rough. It always was, but usually he makes it higher somehow, always sounding unsure of what he's saying. Now he doesn't sound like that anymore. “How could you not know who I am?”

 

Hux shudders. There's something wrong with Ben. He's not acting the way he usually does. His hand clenches the taser again, index ready on the trigger.

 

“I told you I'm not interested in--”

 

“I told you I'd find you”, says Ben, cutting him off. “I told you when I win, I would come to you.”

 

The sound of the taser hitting the ground startles both of them.

 

“ _Ren_?”

 

“You're a smart man, Hux. I thought surely you'd figure me out tonight.”

 

He looks at the floor.

 

“Were you going to tase me?”

 

“I bought it specifically to tase you, yes. I had you in mind when I bought it. I was never planning to tase anyone else in the first place.”

 

“I feel special, Hux.”

 

And then Ren's large hand – how could he not recognize those hands? - is on Hux's chest, pushing him back into the apartment, and Ren is walking in, and the door closes behind him.

 

 

*

 

Hux has no clear idea of how exactly he got into his bedroom with Ren, but there he is. Millicent, sitting on her shelf, seems to look over them as Ren pushes him towards the bed, and suddenly he's feeling a bit too hot in his chilly clothes and a bit too crowded in the empty room. The back of his knees hit the mattress, and he falls seating with a huff of breath.

 

Ren is leaning in – too close – and grabbing at his face – too warm – and going in for a kiss – too much – and all Hux can do is push him back as hard as he can.

 

Ren takes a step back, but he doesn't fall, doesn't stumble. It doesn't help Hux feel any better to remember he can't overpower this man if he needs to.

 

“What?”, asks Ren, with an expression of confusion, and maybe worry.

 

“I— I can't–”

 

“But you said you liked me. Come on, Hux. I've been waiting for this, haven't you?”

 

Ren is stepping up to him again, and all fear, all queasiness goes from Hux. Instead he just feels anger.

 

“Waiting for _this_? Well, I've definitely been waiting for _home invasion_ , if that's what this is! I have been sleeping for _days_ with weapons around and in my bed in case you tried to break into this house and try to do whatever kind of fucking harm you could think up to me, _Ren_! I have not exactly been anticipating your arrival with bated breath, if you could not tell from the fact I answer my door with a fucking _taser_! So you will _wait_ , and so help me, you will _fucking_ back down, or I will take the brass knuckles that I am hiding right under this pillow” - he points at it angrily – “and fucking break your enormous nose with them!”

 

Ren pauses, staring at him like he's never seen him before, and silence settles into the room again. Hux is breathing a bit fast now. He tries to calm himself.

 

“You think my nose is enormous?”

 

He can't help it. Hux doubles over and laughs. He laughs loud, unabated, until his breath his ragged and his throat hurts. Ren just stands there awkwardly, watching him, and when Hux finally looks up to him, he's smiling a bit.

 

“I mean, it is pretty big”, says Hux breathlessly.

 

“I won't argue with that. But you don't think it's ugly, do you?”

 

Hux shakes his head hastily.

 

“No. But I mean, it's definitely big though.”

 

“Alright, I get it already.”

 

Hux pats the bed next to him, and Ren hesitates for a moment before sitting next to him.

 

“I definitely imagined you differently”, he says quietly.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Less weird. Less socially awkward.”

 

“I don't...” Ren looks down at his knees, biting his lip, struggling with words. “I'm not like that. I don't have to be like that. It's just… I have to keep up with that mask, and that life, and it makes everything so difficult. I can't say what I think. People will know something's wrong. They'll suspect something.”

 

Hux leans back on the palms of his hands.

 

“What _do_ you think?”

 

Ren's head turns to him and his dark eyes stare into Hux's own; his hand slides to Hux's and covers it. When he compares it to his, Ren's hand isn't actually that big: they're about the same size, but Ren's hands are thicker. They feel massive, where Hux's just look long.

 

“Well, right now I'm thinking I wanna fuck you.”

 

“That's it? You're not even buying me dinner? At least kiss me first, you brute.”

 

“I tried!”, cries Ren.

 

“Well, I didn't know it was you, so it doesn't count. Try again.”

 

And, because Ren is just staring at him with a frown, Hux grabs his face and plants a kiss on him.

 

Unsurprisingly, Ren tastes like alcohol and stale breath. What was he thinking? He saw the guy drinking weird mixes at the party. Of course Ren wouldn't think to brush his goddamn teeth before showing up at his house.

 

Still, the flavor is warm and Ren's mouth is pliant, so he keeps the kiss going, sliding their lips together wetly. Ren is inexperienced; he can tell that much already: he clearly has no idea what to do with his mouth, or his tongue, but it's alright. Frankly, Hux has never cared much for the technicalities of kissing. He's kissed plenty of people while feeling nothing but boredom, even excellent kissers. It doesn't matter to him how well someone can shove their tongue down his throat if he has no interest in them in the first place. But kissing Ren is good, because it feels like an accomplishment.

 

He pulls back when Ren's awkward nose bumps against his.

 

“What _is_ your real name?”

 

“I'm not sure anymore.”

 

“What do you want me to call you?”

 

“Kylo Ren. That's… That's my real name.”

 

Hux grins, and pushes him back into the mattress. Ren falls back obediently, looking up at him with a quiet calm that Hux likes on him.

 

“Well, Kylo Ren, I heard you wanted to fuck me. Is that still part of your plans for the night?”

 

“You'll let me?”

 

“Don't think you'll be doing much. I'm in charge here. My house, my rules.”

 

Ren nods under him. He straddles the man's hips, grinding down against him slowly – too slow for it to be anymore than teasing. Ren groans.

 

“Do you want this?”, Hux asks cautiously. He knows the answer, but he'll still check.

 

A hissed “yessss” is his answer, along with a responding grind of the other's hips. He smiles.

 

“Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

 

Ren licks his lips, but doesn't move. Instead, he just smiles widely.

 

“I wanna fuck you, Hux, come on, you know that. I want to bury my cock in your tight ass deeper than anyone's ever been inside you before. I wanna fuck you until neither of us can get a coherent sentence out, and then some more. I wanna bite you all over, and then I want you to leave marks on me too.”

 

“I can do that”, says Hux, and he slips his shirt off over his head.

 

“You want to, right?”, asks Ren, even as his hands slide up to Hux's waist and try to circle it. He can't quite manage it.

 

“Of course I want to, Ren. Take off your pants.”

 

Hux raises his hips so that the other man can quickly shove his pants down, and his underwear with them. He's already hard, Hux sees, and he's just as big as he looked in pictures. If Hux was less of a proud person, he'd be on his knees right now getting that fat, throbbing thing in his mouth. But he is a very proud person, so instead he pulls his shorts down his thighs, reaches into the drawer of his nightstand. He holds out lube for Ren to take.

 

“If you want that thing to go anywhere near me, I'll need preparation. Think you can do that?”

 

Ren nods and grabs the lube, pouring it onto his fingers. His clean hand rests on Hux's hip, and the other slides between his spread thighs to find his entrance.

 

“You sure?”, asks Ren.

 

“Do I look unsure? For Christ's sake, just get started with it.”

 

Ren actually looks like he isn't too sure what he's doing, and Hux thinks maybe he doesn't, actually, but then one of those fingers push into him, and, well, it's not that bad. Maybe the guy has fun fingering himself in his own time. It's not anyone's business. Hux rocks his hips down slowly, encouragingly, ignoring the slight sting of first penetration, and Ren's hand on his hip strokes up his side, gets under his shirt, goes to support his back. Hux places his hands on either side of Ren's head to keep himself stable.

 

“I can take more than that. Hurry it up, I don't have all night.”

 

“You don't?”

 

“Well, I was hoping to get some sleep at one point. You did wake me up.”

 

Ren laughs, a throaty, rough sound, and then he presses another finger into Hux, and a shudder goes down his spine.

 

“You alright?”, asks Ren, sounding concerned.

 

“I swear to God, if you are going to question my decisions every step of the way, I _will_ gag you.”

 

“Uh, are you ready then?”

 

“I'm going to need more than two fingers, Ren. Get on with it.”

 

Ren slides a third finger into him, and Hux hisses, pushing at his shoulder.

 

“Slowly, for Pete's sake! Have you never done this before?”

 

“No?” Ren looks embarrassed.

 

“That's what I thought.”

 

He takes one hand off the mattress and reaches behind himself, taking hold of Ren's hand. He holds it tight, and slowly moves it down, then up again. Ren doesn't say anything; he just looks up at him with something akin to awe as Hux keeps on moving his hand, fucking himself with his fingers.

 

He pauses eventually and unfolds Ren's fourth finger, pressing it into himself with a groan, and he feels a slight tremor go up Ren's arm. His other hand is hot on his back, sliding down and then up again in a slow, soothing motion.

 

Eventually, Hux pulls Ren's hand away from his body, licking his dry lips as he sits up on his strong stomach.

 

“ _Now_ I'm ready.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yes. Are _you_ ready?”

 

“I've been ready for weeks”, says Ren, and he tries to pull him down into the mattress, but Hux grabs his wrists and pins them to the mattress.

 

“Eager, aren't you? I said I'm in charge here.”

 

Hux lets go of his wrists and scoots himself down Ren's body, hovering over his crotch and taking his length in one hand; his own leaking cock is leaving a trail of precum across the dark shirt Ren wears. He grabs the discarded lube to smear a healthy amount of it over Ren's erection, before lining it with his entrance and unhurriedly lowering himself on it. They both groan, quietly, and Ren's hands find his hips again, not trying to pull him down, but holding him tightly.

 

When Hux finds himself fully seated on the other's cock, he doesn't wait very long to roll his hips, easy and relaxed like he's always been ready to do exactly this. Maybe he has. Ren bites his lip, but Hux thumbs it free, making him let out the moans he tries to hold back; dark eyelashes flutter on dotted cheeks as Hux continues to ride him at a leisurely pace, one hand stroking himself lazily as he goes.

 

“Is this good?”, he asks, even though he knows the answer already.

 

“Nnh”, says Ren with a vague nod.

 

“Look at me, Ren.” His voice is breathy, slightly high-pitched, wavering. He won't last long and he knows it. Hopefully neither of them will. Ren's eyes open again and he stares up at him, mouth open around breathless noises and his chest heaving visibly. He's beautiful. Hux leans down and presses another kiss to his lips, drinking up the lovely sounds he makes. He bucks his hips faster now, feeling himself get close already. There are times he's lasted much longer, but this won't be one of them.

 

“I want you to come inside me”, he says. He gets a groan in answer. He strokes himself faster now, urgently, but he doesn't take his gaze off the deep brown eyes staring up at him.

 

One of Ren's hands cover his own, wrapping around his cock, rubbing him feverishly, and with just a few strokes he's coming all over Ren's shirt, his back arching as he rides him through his orgasm.

 

Still high from his climax, he notices that Ren hasn't come yet, and he continues to fuck himself on him, even though he's quickly growing oversensitive, making noises that _aren't whines_ as he tries to bring Ren to a finish.

 

Ren's hand goes up to his face, thumb stroking his lip, and he opens his mouth to take it in, suck at the digit messily, and then he can feel Ren coming inside him, his stomach tightening and his eyes squeezing shut again as he groans.

 

He stays seated there for a minute, panting slightly, his cheek cradled in Ren's palm, until he collapses onto the bed in exhaustion, gathering the bed sheets around him.

 

Ren crawls up over him, leaning down to kiss at his neck, laying next to him and pulling him close. Hux doesn't care much anymore. He settles against Ren's broad chest and falls asleep.


	15. The Brave and The Willing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warning: in this chapter, Hux questions Ren's sanity in a way that can be read as ableist (AKA seems to equate insanity as being a dangerous person). As you might have noticed, Hux is an antisocial narcissist who doesn't really feel empathy, so he's not exactly neurotypical himself, but I'll still warn you so nobody gets offended!
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took so long to come - as I'm on holidays, I was mostly doing some hiking, paragliding, and spending some time over at my best friend's, so I haven't had much time to write, but here I am now. Thanks for waiting!
> 
> Also, check out these awesome fanarts people have done for this fic:
> 
> http://space-emos.tumblr.com/post/148044697771/
> 
> http://ghosttiish.tumblr.com/post/147663775156/
> 
> I'm so glad people are liking this!!!! Thanks a lot!!

Waking up is usually a good experience for Hux. Waking up with someone in his bed is definitely not.

 

First, it's too warm. Second, he's all tangled up in someone's limbs. Third, he's also tangled up in the covers. Last, his ass is sore.

 

Hux grunts as he tries to sit up and move the heavy arm around his chest. Ren snorts in his sleep, and takes his arm back as Hux pinches it. He slides out of bed and slips on slippers, stepping into the bathroom. He's uncomfortably naked, uncomfortably sticky, and uncomfortably sweaty; this is not a good combination. Hux makes a mental list of priorities.

 

1\. Get cleaned up.

 

2\. Shave.

 

3\. Get dressed.

 

4\. Deal with the serial killer currently in his bed.

 

He thinks number four should probably be a first priority, but he's not willing to get to it before he's decent, so it will have to wait. Hux steps into the shower and turns it on.

 

The lukewarm water washes away the sweat and the remnants of sleep; it does not wash the cum in his ass. Great, thinks Hux as he reaches behind to try and finger it out. He keeps condoms in his bedside table. Why did he not think to use them? For all he knows, Ren could have any number of gross diseases (though he doubts it considering he's fairly sure the guy is a virgin).

 

His wet hair falls in his face and he closes his eyes, damning himself, Ren and the entire world for the fact that he has to get dried semen out of himself. He wonders how things even got to this point in the first place. The door to the bathroom opens.

 

Through the foggy glass of the shower door, he can see Ren, naked and his hair messy, staring at him sleepily.

 

“Are you masturbating in the shower?”, asks Ren.

 

“No, I'm getting your cum out of me.”

 

“Oh”, says Ren. He thankfully doesn't offer to help. Instead, he turns to the sink and splashes some water onto his face, before staring himself off in the mirror. Hux turns off the shower and steps out, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself.

 

“I can't believe you stayed the night”, he says.

 

“Why's that?”

 

“It would only have been polite of you to vacate the premises once you got what you wanted, so I didn't have to handle your presence in the morning.”

 

“Now, I'm no expert, but I'm like pretty sure it's rude to leave in the middle of the night after you fuck someone, and I think if I had done it you would be cursing me out via text right now.”

 

“You're absolutely right”, says Hux. “I can't believe you didn't give me the satisfaction.”

 

Ren moves away from the sink as he shoos him off to shave, staring at him in that intent way he's stared ever since Hux first met him as Ben.

 

“Are you going to leave now?”, Hux asks.

 

“Do I have to?”

 

“Well, I suppose you can get me a good coffee first. My wallet's on the coffee table. Go to the Starbucks down the street, get me an espresso frappuccino and a cinnamon roll. Get whatever you want with your own money.”

 

He fully expects Ren to protest, but instead he just leaves the bathroom; Hux can hear fabric rustling, and then he glimpses him walking towards the living with his clothes on. He slams the door as he leaves.

 

This gives Hux time to get on some clothes – a nice taupe shirt and his usual black trousers – and put on his shoes before he goes to the living and opens his computer.

 

New email from Phasma:

 

_Hux, you have a chapter for Starkiller due today. Don't forget to send it in._

 

He deletes the email from his inbox. He's not written anything in Starkiller, and he knows he's not going to have a new chapter for today. Phasma will have to wait. Art doesn't do deadlines, he thinks, even though he's never missed a due date before.

 

On the front page of one of the news websites he checks daily:

 

_An interview with Dopheld Mitaka, who survived an encounter with the Cellphone Killer._

 

He closes the tab.

 

Ren comes back after a dozen of minutes; Hux isn't sure how he got into the building without having to ring up the intercom. The idea that he might have a key to the building is not very reassuring. He's holding two cups and balancing a cinnamon roll on top of one; both cups are marked “HUX”.

 

“There you go”, says Ren as he hands his drink and pastry to him. Hux takes them without saying thank you, and immediately takes a sip of his drink.

 

“Sit down”, he says; Ren does, looking at him expectantly.

 

“I need to know what you're here for”, he says. “You can't just show up at my home at three in the morning with no sort of invitation and expect me to understand your intentions. What do you want, a one night stand?”

 

“You don't do one night stands”, says Ren. Did Hux tell him that? He can't remember.

 

“No, I don't, but perhaps you do.”

 

“I… I've never done that. I'm not going to.” Ren slumps back into the sofa and crosses his arms like an angry child.

 

“Okay”, Hux articulates slowly, deciding that if Ren is going to act like a kid, he will treat him as one. “Then what _do_ you want?”

 

“I dunno. I like you. I wanna see you.”

 

“You don't know the first thing about me, Ren. You like me because I play along with your murderous games.”

 

“But-- But you like me, right? You said so.”

 

“I was trying to get out of a touchy situation”, he lies. Just because this idiot is ready to lay down his cards and show off his weaknesses, he certainly won't.

 

“I can get to know you”, Ren pleads. “We can spend time together, right?”

 

“You're a serial killer, Ren. The longer you stay here, the more danger I'm in.”

 

“I wouldn't hurt you”, mumbles the bigger man, looking down at his knees angrily.

 

“Alright”, says Hux. “I have an idea.”

 

He gets up, walks back to his room, and opens a drawer in his closet. He comes back to Ren hiding the item behind his back.

 

“Stand up”, he says. Ren does.

 

“Turn around”, he says. Ren does.

 

“Put your hands behind your back”, he says. Ren does.

 

He takes the item out and grabs Ren's wrist, securing them tightly behind his back.

 

“ _Now_ we can have a conversation.”

 

“Did you just _handcuff_ me?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Why do you have handcuffs at your house?” Ren sounds confused.

 

“I'm sure you can make an educated guess.”

 

“Oh. I didn't think you were into that.”

 

Ren's hands search for a way out of the cuffs – probably expecting some of those sextoys that one can unlock on their own – and his hands relax defeatedly when he finds none.

 

“Sit down”, Hux says, and Ren does.

 

He goes back to his own seat, takes another sip from his drink, and a bite from his pastry. It's delicious, though it's not warm anymore.

 

“Now, let's discuss your sanity. Are you seeing a therapist?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Well, I couldn't tell them what I'm doing, they'd call the police.”

 

“So you have no clue if you're actually a sane person or not?”

 

“Uh, I'm pretty sure I'm not. I mean, I kill people.”

 

“Sane people can kill, and they do. But considering the amount of instant ramen you apparently consume, I'm going to assume you're not, in fact, a sane person. How often have you wanted to hurt me?”

 

“Never!”

 

“Don't lie to me, Ren.”

 

Ren sighs. “Alright, when you didn't answer the game that one time. I got mad.”

 

“I see”, says Hux, and he drinks from his cup again. Ren's cup sits on the table, still full, obviously the man can't get to it.

 

“But I wouldn't do anything to you, I swear.”

 

“I don't want to play with you anymore.”

 

“What?” Ren's face falls, his mouth open, his eyes wide. Hux bites into the cinnamon roll again.

 

“It's too dangerous. _You're_ too dangerous. I want you to leave my house, and never come back. I don't want you following me, stalking me, I don't want to hear from you. You find another player and we _never_ see one another again.”

 

Ren stares at him in shock, then horror, starting to look like he may start crying at any moment. Hux takes a long swig of coffee, and asks:

 

“Are we clear?”

 

“Yes”, says Ren. He looks down at his knees again, looking as miserable as any man Hux as ever seen.

 

Hux smiles at him.

 

“Alright, you pass the test.”

 

“What?”

 

“Since you're apparently not going to hurt me if I want to back out of this, I suppose it's alright for us to interact. You pass the test.”

 

Ren flops back into the sofa with a sigh of relief, the handcuffs jiggling as he moves, licking his lips.

 

“Fuck, you really had me going here.”

 

“I'm a very good liar.”

 

“Yeah. Can I get a drink?”

 

Hux smiles again, and, forgetting that Ren has his own cup, brings his frappuccino to his lips and lets him drink from it.

 

“You're getting tested for STDs”, he adds.


	16. Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was considering putting a warning for this chapter being disturbing but... Everything about this fic is disturbing.

Ren stays at his apartment for the day. Hux gets him out of the cuffs eventually, and Ren wanders around the place, looking at the minimalist decor and picking books off the shelves.

 

“Where's Millicent?”, he asks.

 

“In my room”, says Hux, on his laptop again, trying and failing to get some work done on Starkiller. He has no good ideas for this.

 

“Is she giving you trouble?”

 

“Actually”, says Hux, after a moment of reflection, “she's stopped since I gave her a good scolding.”

 

“You scolded Millicent.”

 

“I know how to handle tantrums.”

 

Ren grunts and sits down on the sofa again, looking over his shoulder to see what he's doing.

 

“What are you writing?”

 

“A novel.”

 

“Can I read it?”

 

“You can read it when it's on the shelves, like everyone else.”

 

Ren grabs his cup off the coffee table and takes a sip.

 

“Do you always just sit there and write when you have guests over?”

 

“I don't have guests over.”

 

“I have an idea”, Ren says suddenly, and he stands up abruptly.

 

“What is it?” Hux doesn't look up from his screen.

 

“Let's go to my place.”

 

“What in the world could we do at your place that we can't do right here?”

 

“I have something to show you.”

 

Hux finally looks up at him. “Is it your haunted doll collection?”

 

“No, it's something better. Come on.”

 

Hux sighs, closes his laptop, and gets up, adjusting the waistband of his trousers.

 

“Fine, let's go then.”

 

He goes to his room to grab his keys, and, while he's at it, shoves the taser in his back pocket. He sends Phasma a quick text ( _If you don't see me again, tell the police Ben is the culprit_ ) and ignores her response ( _Ben Solo?? What are you doing with him??_ ). He takes his phone with him and goes back to Ren, who waits by the apartment door.

 

“You ever ride a bike?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I meant a motorcycle.”

 

“...No, I haven't.”

 

Ren grins as he exits the apartment, and Hux locks the door quickly before following after him.

 

The bike ride is somewhat unpleasant to Hux. He always feels like he's going to fall off, and Ren's reckless driving doesn't help much. He grabs hard onto the other man's waist and closes his eyes for most of the trip.

 

He recognizes the neighborhood they arrive in: this isn't too far from Rey's house. Ren stops in front of a tiny house with red shutters and a small, messy garden (the lawn probably has never been mowed, and there are wild plants everywhere). Above the front door is a rusty metal lantern, and a lot of plants sit on the windowsill, leaves spilling everywhere over their undersized pots. Black curtains obscure the inside of the house.

 

“Do you own a lawnmower?”

 

“No”, says Ren, and he steps up to the front door. Hux notices that he has to unlock three different keyholes before getting inside.

 

They step into a small, dark corridor, and Ren doesn't bother turning on the lights. He leads him into another room, which appears to be a very messy bedroom. There's clothes everywhere on the floor, two empty ramen cups, many chunky pairs of shoes (not all of which are actually in pairs), and he can see the remains of several broken phones about the room.

 

“Dear Lord, do you clean up?”

 

“No”, says Ren, and he opens a closet and starts rifling through it. He comes back to Hux with two helmets, both seemingly identical, and hands him one.

 

“That's my old mask. It's a bit roughed up, but it still works. Put it on.”

 

“Why?”, asks Hux, who knows exactly why.

 

“You'll see.” Ren puts on the second mask, and then hands him a pair of gloves. They're slightly too big, but it's alright. He takes out what looks like a really big, black bathrobe, and shoves it towards Hux.

 

“To cover your clothes. Put it on.” His voice is deeper than usual; apparently, the mask modifies it.

 

He does as asked, and then slides the helmet on. It obscures his vision slightly, but it's alright.

 

Ren leads him further into the house – it's all dark inside, and it's even harder to see through the helmet – until they reach a metal door with several locks. Ren opens them, and lets Hux down a steep rock staircase. He can hardly see anything, until Ren turns on lights.

 

This is the basement; a single light bulb lights it up above. There's a mattress in a corner with some blankets that Hux hadn't noticed in any videos. In the middle of the room sit two chairs, and on each chair sits someone.

 

On the left, a muscular teenager, his skin tan and his hair messy, glares up at him blearily. On the right, a middle-aged woman, pale skinned and dead-eyed, stares at the ceiling.

 

“Oh”, he says, his voice coming out distorted by the helmet.

 

“Do you like them?”

 

“Oh, Ren,” - he almost chokes on his words - “they're _beautiful_.”

 

He comes closer to the teenager, carefully brushing hair back from his face and examining him. He tries to growl slightly, but it doesn't have much bite through the gag.

 

“What have they done?”, Hux asks.

 

“I can't tell you until Wednesday.”

 

Hux trails his gloved fingers down to the boy's neck, imagining Ren's hand choking him like he has before.

 

“I can't _wait_ until Wednesday.”

 

“I knew you'd like it.”

 

Hux takes the teenager's face with both hands and examines him, turning him there and there to see the angles of his face. It's fascinating to be here, really, to see it all happen.

 

“Do you feed them?”

 

“Yeah, of course. Need to keep them alive.”

 

Hux turns to the woman to examine her. He reaches to brush his fingers through her hair, grinning under the mask as she tries to move away. Her feet, strapped to the chair's legs, are trying to kick him away. She makes an affronting noise at him, and Hux slaps her.

 

“What are you doing?”, asks Ren, sounding mildly disinterested.

 

“Teaching them respect. Good Lord, they're like dogs, growling and grunting at me.”

 

Ren chuckles, a deep sound, and Hux pulls the woman's head back with her hair, getting closer to her face.

 

“You know, lady, I'm the one to decide if you live or die. You might want to be nicer.”

 

She whimpers, and he lets go of her, stepping back.

 

“When do you catch them?”

 

“Normally, I have them by Monday, sometimes on Sunday.”

 

Hux thinks for a second, then pokes the teenager's belly.

 

“Did you ever think you could pick out some of their organs and sell them off while they're here?”

 

“Hum, no.”

 

“I'm just saying it could be a good source of revenue.”

 

“That's not really what we do. I don't think my master would agree.”

 

Hux turns back to him.

 

“Show me your haunted sword.”

 

“Uh. You mean my dick?”

 

“No, you imbecile, the actual sword.”


	17. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this is extremely short! It's more of a filler chapter; I'm just placing a little self indulgent interaction in-between the usual plot-filled chapters. There'll be another real update as soon as I can get it out.
> 
> There is no actual smut here, but some making out and heavy petting is happening, so be aware of that.

Hux quickly learns that Ren's house is a mess everywhere. It's not just the garden or the room; the whole place is terrible. Ren takes him through it to show him his stupid sword, which he keeps in the attic, for some inexplicable reason. It smells dusty up there, and there are loads of boxes everywhere and random objects laying around: a baseball bat, several footballs, an electric keyboard propped up against a wall, and random pieces of fabric. Ren keeps the sword up against two cardboard boxes. It's a beautiful sword, though the edges are ragged and the stone on the handle is cracked.

 

Ren shows him the rest of his house: the messy kitchen, with a work table covered in half-empty spice containers, dishes in the sink, a full bowl of some kind of soggy cereal left on the table. The living room sofa is half covered by laundry that hasn't been folded and put back in place, and the coffee table is covered in cup stains and old newspapers.

 

“You know”, says Hux, as Ren tries to make him sit with him on the sofa, “I think I'd rather we go back to my apartment.”

 

“Why?”, says Ren, looking around like he sees nothing wrong with the place. On top of a dresser in the corner, a doll stares at them.

 

“ _Why_? Have you seen this place? It's disgusting, Ren. I think if my sister was here her dust allergies would kill her.”

 

“It's not that bad”, grumbles Ren, pushing some of the laundry away.

 

“Yes, it is. Let's go back to my place.”

 

“I don't wanna cross the city again.”

 

“Then clean up.”

 

Ren huffs in frustration, but he does get up and start picking up the laundry. Hux relaxes into the couch as he watches him. Ren brings the laundry to his room (most likely to drop it on his bed and forget about it until he has to go to sleep, Hux supposes) and comes back to clear the coffee table.

 

“Aren't you gonna help me?”

 

“Your house, your mess”, says Hux with a nasty grin as he keeps watching. “But I'd appreciate a glass of water.”

 

He fully expects Ren to give up and let them go back to his apartment, but instead the man goes to the kitchen, gets him a glass of water, and keeps cleaning up. Hux is pleasantly surprised.

 

He sits there and watches as Ren painstakingly clears up the living room – he doesn't go as far as to take a broom to the floor, but there's an effort there, and Hux appreciates it. He sips his water thoughtfully, until Ren comes back to him and he sets his glass down on the coffee table.

 

“Are you done?”, he asks. Ren nods, but sheepishly, as if he's expecting Hux to point out where he hasn't done a good enough job. Hux would – but not now. Maybe another time. He pats the couch next to him and Ren takes a seat.

 

“This is better”, he says. “ _Now_ we can spend time together comfortably.”

 

“We could do it before”, grumbles Ren.

 

“No, we could not, this place was filthy, and I'm not going to 'hang out' in… What are you doing?”

 

Ren is leaning in obnoxiously close and apparently waiting for something.

 

“Uh, trying to kiss you?”

 

“I was talking.”

 

“My point exactly.”

 

Hux sighs angrily as he grabs Ren's face and pulls him in for a kiss. There's a second of fumbling to adjust so their noses don't bump, and then the taste of Ren's tongue; it's not gross like last time. It's just a warm, tart sort of flavor, and Hux never particularly enjoys kissing, but he guesses this isn't grossing him out either, so it's okay. He leans back into the couch, gets comfortable, and lets Ren slip his tongue in and out of his mouth curiously like this is interesting to him.

 

Ren's lips slide down his chin and to his neck, and now the man is kissing sloppily at his throat, sucking onto the skin and most likely leaving marks – curse his easy bruising. Hux allows it, tilting his head back and letting one hand rest on Ren's back. Somehow the body warmth he feels through the shirt is grounding; it makes him feel that this is real, this is happening, Ren really is here. He likes it.

 

Large hands start sliding under his shirt, sliding up his sides and stroking experimentally at his chest; Ren's fingers are hot and his teeth are sharp against Hux's skin. Hux allows a single low, long moan to escape him and Ren's body shudders against him.

 

Soon Ren is sliding down to his knees and undoing Hux's trousers, and when his dark brown eyes look up to him in awe, Hux knows that, whatever game they're playing – he's winning.


	18. The Eating And The Dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This one took forever to write!! There's really no reason for it, but for some reason I had a REALLY hard time with this chapter. It's done now though!! I apologize for the slow update and will try to make it faster next time.

On Wednesday morning, Ren sends him a text.

 

“ _lunch w me today y/n?”_

 

“ _It depends. Where do you propose we go?”_

 

“ _pizza?”_

 

“ _I eat healthy, actually.”_

 

“ _sushi”_

 

“ _Fine.”_

 

“ _its a date”_

 

“ _Of course it is, Ren. I've already ravished you twice, it's only proper we'd go on a date eventually.”_

 

“ _am not ravished”_

 

Ren agrees to pick him up at noon, and considering it's already ten, Hux only takes a quick shower. He styles his hair perfectly, without leaving a single strand out of place, and spends as long as he can afford picking his outfit. It's not that he's nervous; it's that he wants to impress Ren, in a narcissistic way. To make him think “this guy is definitely out of my league”. To make him feel lucky for getting this date in the first place. Hux doesn't date; he hasn't since high school, where he only did because it seemed convenient, it seemed normal. He's making an exception for Ren, and he wants the man to be grateful.

 

He applies subtle cologne after getting dressed. If this was any more fancy, he'd have worn a suit for the full effect, but nobody wears suits to a sushi shop, so instead he's opted for one of his nicest patterned shirts and those tailored grey trousers he bought on impulse when his first book deal actually started to become lucrative. His nicest leather belt, the one with the shiny silver buckle, and a nice blazer that squared up his shoulders finished it off. He looked like he meant business, and he did.

 

He ended up finishing early, and at eleven thirty, he was on his sofa, correcting some errors in Starkiller. It made him feel like he was doing something with it, even if he was late on his chapter.

 

Surprisingly enough, Ren was five minutes early to pick him up, which Hux assumed was more because he was nervous than because he was polite (Ren seemed like the kind of guy to be constantly unfashionably late). He went to answer the door calmly, without hurrying up, and even slowed down his pace just a little to make him wait.

 

“Didn't know you wore glasses”, said Ren when the door opened. The man was actually wearing a dress shirt (with short sleeves, but still), which Hux thought must have been immense effort, considering Ren had always been wearing a T-shirt or hoodie before. Part of his hair was tied up above his head in a bun. Hux thought of Rey, and wondered if ridiculous hairstyles ran in the family.

 

“They're for reading”, he said, and took the glasses off to slide them into his shirt's pocket.

 

“Shall we go?”, said Ren, in such an affected tone that Hux couldn't help but snicker.

 

“Don't try to sound fancy, Ren. It doesn't fit you at all.”

 

Ren only has one protective helmet for his bike, and he tries to make Hux wear it, but he denies it. He pretends it's for Ren's safety, but really, he doesn't want his hair to be messed up.

 

Ren had at least the decency to pick the nicest sushi shop in town (he's most likely realized that he's dealing with very high standards here), but they have to stop a block away to park the bike somewhere. They walk together, and Ren's hand brushes against Hux's a couple times, but he decides that he is most definitely _not_ going to hold hands with anyone in public, and pretends he doesn't notice.

 

The restaurant is almost too crowded for them, but a couple happens to leave at the same time they arrive, and so they get a table next to the window. Hux likes looking out to the people on the street, but he doesn't like when those people can also see him. He'll deal with it, though.

 

They both sit, and a waitress promptly comes up to them. Hux orders a litchi cocktail, and Ren a Coke Cherry (gross). They get a couple platter to share, and the waitress gives them a basket of shrimp chips while they wait for their order (Ren immediately consumes half of them).

 

“Please try to look like a decent person while we're at an average class restaurant.”

 

“I'm decent”, says Ren, who looks down at himself like he expects to see his zipper undone.

 

“Don't stuff your face with chips. Do you have no respect for food?”

 

“Uh, no. Should I? Is food the Queen of England? Is food the President?” Ren grabs a chip and holds it delicately between two fingers. “I apologize, Sir, Your Highness, The Next Supreme.” Then he shoves it into his mouth. Hux groans.

 

The waitress comes back in a surprisingly short time considering the fullness of the restaurant and Hux decides he'll tip her generously. He picks up his chopsticks and attempts to pick up the sushi. Ren just grabs it with his fingers and eats it in one bite.

 

“Really, could you be anymore messy?”

 

“Uh, this is how you're supposed to eat sushi”, says Ren with his mouth full.

 

Disregarding possible sushi etiquette – he isn't sure he trusts his companion on that subject anyway – Hux continues to use his chopsticks and try to eat the sushi in several bites without getting rice on his chin or fish hanging out of his mouth. Which is harder than he thought.

 

“You know, the sauce is there for a reason”, Ren says. He hadn't even noticed the sauce. Hux decides that he'll eat the rest of the meal without it so it doesn't look like he's listening to the advice.

 

They eat mostly in silence; Hux doesn't like conversation much in the first place, and Ren is too busy eating as much off the platter as he can. He still only eats his half, and then looks sadly at Hux's share once he's done with it.

 

“You can eat the tuna ones”, Hux says, “I don't like them.”

 

Ren is immediately shoving them into his mouth.

 

Hux takes a pause in the middle of his meal, partly because he likes taking his time, and also because he enjoys the way Ren ogles the meal. He sips his cocktail slowly, leaning back into his seat casually, and watches the man across the table.

 

“So, uh, you're a writer.”

 

Hux sets his half-full glass down on the table.

 

“Why, yes I am. I'm surprised you've retained the information.”

 

“You're writing about me?”

 

“Don't be so presumptuous. I'm writing about ideas you gave me. You're not actually the character.”

 

He takes another sip.

 

“And what do _you_ do for a living?”

 

“Well, uh, officially I'm a computer technician.” He lowers his voice. “My master pays for most of my expenses.”

 

“Where does he get money?”, Hux asks, surprised.

 

“Uh, the victims. We make them give money when we get them. I'll explain later, okay?”

 

Yes, this probably isn't a good conversation to have in the middle of a restaurant. He picks up his glass and finishes his cocktail.

 

He eats three more bites of sushi before deciding he's had enough of it, and letting a delighted Ren finish the platter.

 

“Don't worry, I'll pay”, he says, still with his mouth full.

 

“Of course you will”, scoffs Hux. “You're the one who invited me in the first place. Don't forget to leave a good tip, too, the service was quite fast.”

 

Ren nods distractedly as he eats the last sushi and attracts the waitress's attention to their table. He pays in cash – odd that he has such amounts of cash on his person; the waitress seems surprised as well. On the way out, Ren grabs a handful of complimentary candy at the exit.

 

“Let's go to my place”, he says as the leave, shoving the candy into his pocket. “I have a surprise for you.”

 

Hux knows what the surprise is, but he still smiles delightedly.


	19. The Judging And The Punishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is non-graphic torture in here! Nothing actually described, I ellipsed it out, but it's mentioned and you're gonna know it happened, so I'd rather warn you. Please know that there will be non-graphic eye trauma.

Hux finds it less weird to wear Ren's helmet the second time around. It's hard to see through it and it weirdly changes his voice, but it's okay. He still dislikes the bathrobe he has to wear to hide his clothes, especially considering Ren is wearing some kind of dumb monk robe, and it actually looks good on him.

 

They descend into the basement in silence, Ren's hand on his arm to guide him through the dark staircase. The light bulb above turn on, and he can see the victims again; the teenage man and the middle-aged woman, blinking blearily in the sudden light, visibly barely awake. They must have been sleeping, alone in the darkness for who knows how long, unable to speak or move, to tell how much time had passed; not knowing what would happen to them. Hux doesn't feel sorry for them; but he enjoys picturing how they must have felt during those long hours spent here in the dark basement.

 

There is a new addition to the room: in a corner, facing the two captives, sits a chair that Hux thinks came from Ren's living room.

 

“Sit there”, Ren tells him, pointing to the chair, and Hux takes a seat, crossing one leg over the other.

 

“Are we starting now, then? Isn't it a bit early?”

 

“I'm impatient.”

 

Hux scoffs, but doesn't complain.

 

Ren moves behind the young man's chair, tilting his head up with one finger.

 

“This is Chris Michael. He's 18.” Michael's eyes open a bit wider, and he stares at Hux. The helmet suddenly makes him powerful; he can watch, but can't be watched. Ren's free hand moves to sit on Michael's shoulder almost amicably. “He and his friends found it very funny to bully a kid from his high school because he was gay.” Ren's hand moves from Michael's chin to his cheek, patting it ironically. Hux can hear the grin in his voice. “They went a bit too far when Chris here was holding his face in the toilet and the kid drowned. Now, they were judged as minors and therefore got off with little more than a slap to the wrist, but our guest just turned 18, so now I think we can judge him as an adult.”

 

Michael tries to lean away from Ren's hand, but he grabs his jaw hard and turns him back towards Hux, showing him off like an animal at an auction. Hux watches for a moment, then waves his hand for him to continue.

 

Ren lets the teenager go and moves behind the other chair, setting his hands on the woman's shoulders.

 

“Now, this is Dolores Monroe. 43. She has three children, two boys and a girl, and she just loves hitting them with bottles and cooking utensils and a broom handle she keeps around. She's had social services contacted several times, but they're too shitty to find anything.” He squeezes Monroe's shoulders. “Luckily, I always have my eyes and ears open for hints, and people are talking. Especially people from the kids' school. So I did my research, and here we are.”

 

Hux leans in a bit, interested, as Ren holds Monroe's face towards him.

 

“Difficult choice this week.”

 

“I made it special just for you.”

 

“I'm flattered. I like a dilemma.”

 

Ren rolls his shoulders cockily, stands between the two chairs with a gloved hand on each one, waiting for Hux to make his pick.

 

“Did Michael ever say he was sorry?”

 

“Oh, of course. He cried and all at the trial. Can't say I don't think he did it to get off easy, though.”

 

“Yes, of course. He still killed someone.”

 

Hux brings a hand to the helmet to lean his head into, thinking hard. In a personal way, he wants Michael dead. He's never been bullied for his orientation in school – he never thought to tell his classmates about it, and dated a few girls to blend in with everyone. He was the real bully, anyway, practically ruling all gossip circles in the school and using them to get what he wanted. But still, it feels like Michael's acts are a personal offense.

 

On the other hand, one remorseful teenager who probably isn't dangerous anymore isn't the same as a violent adult who may intend to keep on hurting children, so he knows what choice logic demands, and Hux is a man of logic.

 

“Let Chris live.”

 

He leans back into the chair, his fingers sagely intertwined on his knee, and watches as Ren moves back behind Monroe and circles his large hands around her throat. Slowly, the grip tightens, and the woman chokes behind her gag, her arms and legs trying to break free where they're bound to the chair. The spectacle is far more delightful when he's right there, and his hands are tight on his knee, a wide grin behind the helmet. Michael is trying to move away in his seat, though he clearly can't. The woman's struggle is exquisite, and Hux licks his lips, refuses to touch himself – undignified, certainly not where both Ren and the teenage boy can see him. He wants to stand and go up to her, watch her agony up close, but he restrains himself.

 

He finds her most beautiful when she dies.

 

Ren releases her neck, and Hux a breath he didn't notice he'd been holding.

 

“Do you want him?”

 

“What?”, he asks, confused. Ren's hand is in Michael's hair now, pulling his head back to shine the light at it.

 

“You can, uh, you can hurt him. As long as he doesn't die, it's not against the rules.” He cocks his head to the side. “I know you want to.”

 

“Oh dear”, Hux breathes, and he stands up slowly. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, go for it. Anything you want, just don't kill him.”

 

Michael makes pleading noises behind his gag. Hux doesn't listen. He brings one hand to his tanned face, stroking his cheek gently with his thumb.

 

“Ah, Chris. Chris, Chris, Chris.” He takes the tone of an adult gently scolding a disobedient child. “We all make mistakes, Chris. It happens to everyone.” Michael looks up to him, hoping, begging with his eyes. “Even I've made mistakes in life, though very few of them. And I don't hold it against you. They say 'forgive and forget', don't they?” Michael nods eagerly. Hux keeps stroking his cheek, and the teenager leans into the contact pathetically, trying to appease him, to make him feel pity. “And this is why, Chris, I don't _want_ to hurt you.” Michael lets out a sob, pressing against his hand desperately and nodding. “I simply _have_ to.”

 

Hux takes a step back, taking his hand away.

 

“You wouldn't happen to have a knife handy, would you?”

 

Ren looks dumb for a moment, just standing there without moving, then he reaches into his robes – he probably has hidden pockets – and pulls out a Swiss army knife. Hux takes it with a gracious “thank you”.

 

“Now, hold still”, he says to the struggling teenager. Predictably, Michael doesn't hold still. “Ren, be a dear, hold his head for me.” Two strong gloved hands grab onto each side of Michael's head and keep him still.

 

“Now, remember, Chris”, he says as he opens the blade with one hand and holds Michael's eyelids open with the other, “this hurts me more than it hurts _you_.”

 

*

 

When he's done, Michael is sobbing loud around his gag, but the only tears Hux sees are the blood coming from his empty sockets. He hands the knife back to Ren, and takes off his now useless helmet.

 

“Shh”, he says. “Shh, don't cry. It's okay. We all…” He chuckles. “We all _lose sight_ of our duties in life sometimes. We do things we shouldn't have done. But you've learned your lesson now, haven't you? You'll be good now. I trust you, Chris.”

 

He leans in, and presses a soft kiss to Michael's blood stained cheek. When he pulls back, he wipes it off his mouth with the sleeve of his bathrobe.

 

“Are you done?”, Ren asks.

 

“Oh, yes. We'll need to deal with all this” – he waves at Michael's disfigured face with disdain – “before he gets it infected or manages to die from it. But not right now.”

 

He drops the bathrobe to the floor and heads towards the stairs.

 

“Right now, I want you to come up here and fuck me.”

 

Ren doesn't need to be told twice.


	20. The Crawling And The Knowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short chapter! This fic is almost over. It might have one, maybe two chapters to go if I decide to make Mitaka come back as a short filler bonus inbetween this and the grand finale. Do you want to see Mitaka next, or would you rather go straight to see how this ends? Please let me know!!
> 
> I don't think this chapter needs any trigger warnings if you've read through all the others, but please tell me if there's anything I should warn for.
> 
> The other day I was walking in the woods and thinking, if this dumb AU had a song, which would it be? I tried to think it would be something dramatic and serious like Imagine Dragons' "Monster", but then I was honest with myself and realized it would be Jeffree Star's "I'm In Love With a Killer" :/

Hux leaves Ren's house early on Thursday morning so he can go home, change, and head out for his morning run, which is quickly turning to be a high noon run. He's hungrier than he usually is when he works out as a result, but he can't bring himself to damn Ren. Well, not too much at least. Hux isn't the kind of person who ever has fun – in fact, ask anyone who knows him and they'll say that he stubbornly avoids fun at all costs – but his time last night _was_ fun, and he wouldn't mind doing it again. He supposed he could easily convince Ren to let him back into the basement next Wednesday if he didn't offer on his own.

 

While he practices his yoga, he thinks about Chris Michael, whom they cleaned up fussily the night before, clearing all blood and evidence from him, and bandaged his eyes properly. Right now, Michael was being released by Ren, somewhere in an abandoned landfill, along with Dolores Monroe's body. Without eyes, Hux wonders if the boy will be able to find his way out and to civilization, but it's none of his business really. As long as they released Michael alive, Ren said, what happens next is not their responsibility.

 

On his way home, at almost 2pm now, he goes to the convenience store to pick up a Cobb salad and one of those novelty Asian drinks they sell, those with the chewy bits inside. He drinks it on his way home and checks his messages.

 

Father:

_Your mother's health has been worsening recently. It might be time to come visit her._

 

Ren:

_haha u should watch this guy stumble around lol_

 

_just delivered him to the landfill btw._

 

_he just fell on his face._

 

_i think he doesnt know im still here watching him._

 

A video of Chris Michael stumbling around the landfill desperately, making small noises of distress and something akin to sobbing as he falls to his knees and crawls blindly in an uncertain direction. Hux chuckles.

 

Phasma:

_Hux whats going on?? Youre really late on your chapter and youre not at your apartment._

 

_Hux??_

 

One missed call.

 

_Im getting worried about you. Youre never late like this._

 

_Call me when you see this._

 

He groans. He'd been so busy fooling around with Ren, he'd completely forgotten about Phasma and the chapter he was due. He considers ignoring her for a moment, then gives in and dials her number. She answers almost immediately, sounding both worried and relieved.

 

“Finally! I can't seem to get a hang of you lately. Where have you been? You're late on your chapter.”

 

“Sorry. I've been busy.”

 

“You're never busy, Hux. I know your schedule by heart. You only ever go out to buy food or to run. Where have you been?”

 

“It's really none of your business”, he snaps, a tad more hostile than he meant it. Phasma pauses quietly. She's not used to him acting up on her.

 

“You've been strange lately”, she says. “You've got dark circles like you're not sleeping, you're off schedule, you disappear for ages without a word, you've not been writing. What's going on?”

 

“Nothing is going on.”

 

“It's that story, isn't it? The serial killer one. You promised me it would only be a side project.”

 

“It is.”

 

“I looked up the case, you know? I thought you were making all of this up, but the other day the police said a witness brought them a phone and confirmed that the cellphone killer is making people choose between two victims.”

 

Hux stops in the middle of the sidewalk, breathless.

 

“Hux, you've been writing this since before that information came around.”

 

He feels panic growing inside him and considers hanging up, but he realizes how guilty it would sound.

 

“Lucky guess”, he croaks.

 

“If I didn't know you better, I'd think… You've not gotten yourself into anything dangerous, have you?”

 

He swallows heavily.

 

“Nobody is forcing you to… To do anything bad, right?”

 

“I'm fine”, he manages. “I'll send you the chapter soon, just give me some time. I've been busy.”

 

“Hux”, she starts, but he quickly hangs up.

 

He practically runs all the way to his apartment, even though he's already exhausted, and locks himself in, immediately calling Ren.

 

“What is it?”, Ren says when he answers. “If you wanna talk to Chris, you can't, I just left the landfill.”

 

“Phasma knows something”, Hux cuts him off.

 

“What?”

 

“The police knows about the game. They told the press about it. Phasma knows I knew. She's suspicious.”

 

“I mean.” Ren hesitates. “It was pretty dumb to write a story about it.”

 

“This is _not_ the point here, Ren. What do I do?”

 

A silent pause. He can hear low music in the background, probably what Ren listens to in his car.

 

“I'll… I'll deal with it.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“I'll talk to her, tell her you've been with me recently. I'll tell her you didn't want her to find out about us and that's why you've been secretive.”

 

Hux isn't happy about Phasma thinking he's dating stupid Ben Solo, but it's better than being an accomplice of murder, so he nods, then realizes Ren can't see him.

 

“Alright. That… That might work.”

 

Ren only gives a vague grunt in response.

 

“What's that you're listening to?”, Hux asks, trying to calm himself down with mundane questions.

 

“My Chemical Romance.”

 

“You're fucking emo.”


	21. A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's Mitaka again, as requested! I'm sorry, this is short and bad. I have no idea how to write Mitaka, especially a heavily traumatized Mitaka, so this took some time. Next chapter will most likely be the last.

On Friday morning, Hux agrees to have coffee with Ren in a coffee shop downtown. It's nothing fancy, but he's almost certain he can make Ren pay for him again, so it's free coffee, which is enough. It's certainly not because he enjoys the man's company. Really, he's doing him a favor.

 

The police found Chris Michael alive, sadly enough (Hux was kind of hoping he'd wander around for a bit longer, or at least die). He was currently at a hospital receiving treatment for his infected eye sockets (well, Hux had cleaned him up the best he could. He suspected crawling around a landfill might have something to do with the infection, though). According to him, there had been two accomplices, and one of them was called Ren, but the information led nowhere so far. The police suspected an imitator of the Cellphone Killer – the fact that no phone had actually been involved this time lead them to think this wasn't the actual killer.

 

Phasma hasn't tried to contact him again, which Hux takes to mean that she's happy with Ren's explanation. He'll still need to finish his next chapter and send it to her soon to appease her. In all honesty, that is what he should be doing instead of having coffee with Ren, but here he is – stepping into the coffee shop and finding Ren hovering next the exit. He could have just ordered and found a seat already, but clearly he just waited for Hux like a dog for its owner.

 

“Hey”, says Ren as he attaches himself to his side, so close he might as well just hang onto his arm, and they make their way to the counter. “What do you want?”

 

“An espresso frappuccino.”

 

“Hum, this isn't Starbucks.”

 

“Fine. What do you recommend, then?”

 

Ren looks up at the menu above, which has far too many unknown items for Hux's taste.

 

“They sell boba tea here.”

 

“I didn't think you were the novelty drink kind.”

 

“It's not-- It's good.”

 

“You know what? Fine. I'll have it.”

 

Hux leaves Ren to order their drinks as he goes to look for a table. First, he directs his attention to a small table in the farthest corner – then he notices another customer.

 

Alone against the window, black hair brushed back somewhat messily, wearing a coat that is way too thick for this weather, sits Dopheld Mitaka. His skin is pale and heavy dark circles eat into his face. Deep, sickly shadows dig into his cheeks and he looks as if he should be eating a lot more than the croissant that rests untouched in front of him. Both of his hands are holding tightly onto a hot drink cup as he stares out of the window.

 

There's only mild hesitation in Hux before he changes his direction and goes to Mitaka's table.

 

“Are these seats taken?”, he asks, and he points to the three empty chairs at the table.

 

Mitaka shakes his head vaguely, barely even glancing up at him, obviously expecting him to take a chair with him to another table. Instead, Hux sits down in front of him, crossing his hands gently. Mitaka finally looks up at him.

 

“This place is just crowded, isn't it?”

 

The young man glances at the several empty tables, but doesn't say anything, he just nods and looks back down to his cup.

 

When Ren comes back, he does a double-take as he spots his former victim. For one second, he seems ready to bolt out, then apparently realizes that Mitaka can't possibly recognize him, and he relaxes, taking a seat next to him.

 

“Here's for you”, he says as he hands Hux his drink. Hux thanks him with a nod and takes a quick sip.

 

“Nice weather today, isn't it?”

 

Mitaka takes a moment to realize he's being spoken to, then he looks up and nods again.

 

“Bit warm for this coat”, Ren says. Mitaka crosses an arm over his chest self-consciously.

 

“Let the poor boy be”, says Hux, but he's grinning widely.

 

“I'm just saying he could afford to lose a couple layers.”

 

“You never wear anything appropriate for the weather, R-- Ben.”

 

“I do too.”

 

“I've seen you wear a hoodie in summer, and you're not wearing a coat right now.”

 

Ren rolls his eyes and takes a big gulp of his drink, chewing on a few bubbles.

 

“Hey”, he says as he puts his drink down again, faking a sudden realization. “I've seen you before.”

 

Mitaka looks up again, looking pained by it.

 

“On the news. Weren't you in with that one serial killer?”

 

“Hum”, says Mitaka.

 

“Oh yeah, I remember that. The Cellphone Killer, he had you, right?”

 

“Ah”, says Mitaka.

 

Hux considers stepping in, if only because Ren is being dangerously stupid, or perhaps to spare Mitaka, but instead he leans back, raises an eyebrow, and decides to see how this plays out.

 

“Must've been hard, man, I sympathize.”

 

“It wasn't… I'm okay.”

 

Mitaka looks up to Hux for help, probably hoping he'll change the subject. Hux gives him a fake smile and does nothing.

 

“Really, though? I mean, he's still out here. Aren't you afraid of knowing this kind of monster is roaming just out of sight?”

 

Ren doesn't act like he does as Ben. He's acting as himself – he's acting as Kylo Ren, and it's weird and fascinating to Hux to see him do so in public.

 

“He's not”, Mitaka mutters.

 

“What?”

 

“He's not a monster.”

 

Both he and Ren lean in slightly, interested, and Mitaka leans back against the window warily.

 

“Well, what is he?”, Hux asks, his eyebrows raised.

 

“He's… He's just trying to help people. He's trying to do something good. The people he takes, they're not… They're not good. It's not like what the media says.”

 

“It isn't, is it? So _what_ is it then?”

 

Mitaka looks out of the window, looking for an answer in the gathering clouds above. It might rain later, Hux thinks. Maybe the kid isn't wrong to wear this big coat.

 

“He just wants to keep people safe. He kept me safe.”

 

Hux frowns, clearly not believing it, but Mitaka keeps looking outside, ostensibly refusing to speak anymore. A few moments pass in awkward silence, then Ren loudly slurps up the last of his drink and stands up.

 

“Well, it was nice meeting you. We should head home now before it rains.”

 

It seems as if Mitaka isn't going to answer, so Hux stands up as well, taking his drink with him.

 

“Do I know you?”

 

Both of them turn back to the young man, who is looking up to Ren now, an intent look in his dark eyes.

 

“Never met you before.”

 

“Ah”, says Mitaka. “I thought I… Recognized your voice.”

 

The intensity in his eyes dies out and he looks outside with a vague expression again. Hux gives him a last glance as they exit the coffee shop, but Mitaka doesn't look back.


	22. The Stopping And The Starting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are! This is the last chapter! Woo!! I thought this fic would never end!! Or, most likely, that I'd abandon it before completion like most of my other projects. But now we're here! I wrote this whole chapter all at once and didn't read it over, because I'm a dick like that, so, sorry. I knew exactly what would happen for a while now and I was really excited to finally get to writing it! This ending is probably not what a lot of you would want, but there weren't many ways this could end without sacrificing someone, so I did what I could.

On Saturday, Ren isn’t available at all – his curt texts make Hux assume he’s busy, most likely with a victim. On Sunday, Ren doesn’t answer his phone at all. On Monday morning, Hux picks up the newspaper and goes to sit with his morning coffee.

 

_“The Cellphone Killer Finally Arrested”_ , says the headline.

 

Slowly, Hux puts the newspaper back down and takes a long sip of coffee. He looks up at the window ahead for a moment, breathing deeply, and then looks down again.

 

On Friday, a young girl had been found wandering out of a forest near a major city. She led the police to a corpse left by what appeared to be the Cellphone Killer.  DNA evidence was found on the body and led to the arrest of Divit Ganesh, now the prime suspect in the Cellphone Killer case. The man insisted his name was Kani Ren, and would respond to nothing else. The name correlated with the testimony of Chris Michael. Dopheld Mitaka was called to identify the suspect, as he was in the killer’s captivity for several weeks, and insisted that this could not be him – according to him, the frame was too small and the voice different. However, based on unstable psychiatric evaluations, Mitaka’s testimony was deemed inconclusive. Ganesh was now awaiting trial, and most likely facing the death penalty as he had admitted to his crimes.

 

Hux took the time to drink the last of his coffee and wash out his mug before he took out his phone and dialed Ren’s number.

 

“Hey”, said Ren as he answered.

 

“Have you seen the news?”

 

“I knew before the news came out. We always know when something happens to one of us.”

 

“I’m not here for your cryptic bullshit. Are we in danger?”

 

“What?”

 

“Are we going to get caught too?”

 

“Oh, no. No way. Kani wouldn’t sell anyone out even if it could help at his trial. No, he was ready to die when he joined the Knights.”

 

“Oh, well, I’m just giddy to hear it. What now?”

 

“Well, we wait until they execute him, and then we keep the game going.”

 

“You’re going to let them execute him?” Hux asks, baffled.

 

“Uh, yeah. I mean, they must know there’s several of us already, it’s kind of obvious, but… If they don’t execute him he might become a liability. They’re hoping to scare all of us into stopping by killing one, and also to reassure the population.”

 

“They can’t be that stupid.”

 

“They’re not, but they think it’s worth a try.”

 

Hux sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

“How do you know what the police plans?”

 

“My master tells me.”

 

“How does _he_ know?”

 

“He’s powerful.”

 

This is all ridiculous. His career, his reputation – hell, his entire life are hanging by a thread, but all Ren will do is talk about his weird “master”. He’s fairly sure he can’t cover his tracks now; if Ren is found, they’ll find him too.

 

“I think you should come over”, says Ren on the phone.

 

“Why?”

 

“I… I have something I need to talk to you about. An offer.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Come over soon.” And then, Ren hangs up.

 

Hux grumbles all the way through getting dressed and doing his hair, and then a bit more as he takes his phone and wallet and locks the door behind him. On the bus, it feels like all eyes are on him. He knows they’re not, he _knows_ , but suddenly he feels as if he’s extremely suspicious and everybody knows exactly what he’s gotten himself mixed in.

 

As he arrives in front of Ren’s house, he stops. Takes a moment. Considers turning back, leaving, destroying his phone and all evidence of what he’s done.

 

Before he can make a decision, the door opens and Ren ushers him inside.

 

“How did you know I was here?” he asks as he steps into the corridor.

 

“Them”, Ren says, pointing at dolls on a shelf above their heads. A porcelain clown, its lips painted into a soft grin, seems to stare straight at him. “They know stuff. They tell me what goes on.”

 

“Bullshit”, Hux mumbles.

 

“You’re afraid. They can sense it. I feel it through them. You think I’m going to drag you down with me. I’m not going to get caught, Hux.”

 

“I don’t trust a man who doesn’t believe in frozen vegetables.”

 

Ren leads him into the bedroom, and shoves a helmet into his hands. Hux starts to put it on automatically, before he remembers that he has no idea what’s going on.

 

“Wait. What is this for?”

 

“We’re going in the basement.”

 

“It’s not Wednesday.”

 

“This is a special case.”

 

Hux frowns, but pulls the helmet over his head nonetheless, and allows Ren to hold his black bathrobe for him as he slides it on. He’s handed a pair of gloves and slip them onto his hands.

 

“Let’s go”, says Ren, once he’s gotten his own outfit on. The dark house with its closed curtains is even darker through the tinted visor. Hux holds onto Ren’s arm on his way down the stairs to the basement.

 

When he recognizes the woman tied up to a chair right under the lightbulb, he takes in a sharp breath.

 

“Oh, no, Ren.”

 

“We have to do this.”

 

“No, I didn’t sign up for this.”

 

“She’s dangerous for you. For us.”

 

Hux stares at Phasma through the visor; she stares right back, as if she could see his eyes through it, and she looks pissed. Hux wonders if she recognizes his voice – the intonations, maybe.

 

 

He looks away as he feels Ren press something solid into his hand.

 

This is the first time Hux has held a gun since his father came back from the war with a limping leg and a fake eye. His father still tried to take him to the shooting range, but Hux always refused, and his distaste didn’t fade as he grew up. He still knows how to shoot, or at least assumes he does, but he still tries to hand the gun back. Ren won’t take it.

 

“There’s six of us now.”

 

“What?”

 

“Kani isn’t coming back. There’s only six of us now.”

 

“I don’t– What?”

 

“There must always be seven, you see. It’s important. My master has said so.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re… You’re involved already.”

 

“I will not.”

 

“But you’ve shown me, you’ve shown me how strong you are.” Ren’s head seems to tilt to one side. “I know you want to help. You know how to do it. You could be so good at it. You could be a Knight.”

 

“Ren—“

 

“My master can teach you. You can learn how to do it right. Don’t you want to keep going?”

 

“I cannot join your murderous cult.”

 

“If there isn’t seven of us… We will collapse. We won’t be able to play anymore. Don’t you _want_ to keep going?”

 

Hux takes a deep breath, and his grip tightens on the gun. He twirls around, the bathrobe flowing around him, and points it to Ren’s head.

 

“Can’t you take no for an answer, you idiotic brute? Don’t you understand? I am a respected author. I am a man with a good reputation, from a good family, with a good life. What makes you think I’d want to throw it all away for this—for this… For _you_?”

 

“Lower the gun”, says Ren, but he doesn’t.

 

“No, I don’t think so. I think I should shoot you right now. I can be the one who stopped another Cellphone Killer. I can go back to a normal life. I can work on my _fucking_ novel and have my _fucking_ coffee without worrying every day that I’ll read the news and learn you’ve been caught.”

 

“There’s a witness right behind you.”

 

“I know Phasma better than you do. She’d lie for me, I know she would. She’d understand—It wasn’t supposed to happen like—I never meant for it to go this far. I never meant for it to go _this_ far!”

 

“Hux”, Ren says softly. “You’re hysterical. It went this far even before you were involved. This was always a killing game.”

 

“She’s my _friend_!”

 

“ _Hux_ ”, Ren says again. He sounds like an adult talking to a young, confused child. “You’re a sociopath. You don’t have any friends.”

 

“You know nothing of me”, he grits out, and his hand trembles around the gun but he forces it to still. Somehow in this moment, a thought comes back. _Easy grip_.  “I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to forget all of this, all of _you_ ever happened. This was a mistake from the very beginning.”

 

Ren makes no effort to stop him, or to flee. He simply stands, completely still, an easy target.

 

“Hux. I love you.”

 

A pause. He scoffs.

 

“Of _course_ you’d say that.”

 

_Bang_.

 

The gunshot seems deafening. Hux’s ears ring. He’s breathing fast, too fast, almost hyperventilating.

 

“Holy shit”, says Ren.

 

_Holy shit is right_ , Hux thinks, as he stares at the mass of broken bone and brain matter that once was Phasma’s head. He is mildly disgusted, not really by all the gore, but mostly because he knows this is someone he once respected, even liked – and now, well, it isn’t really.

 

He lowers the gun, slowly, and Ren takes it from his shaky hands with care. It disappears somewhere under his flowing robes. Hands grab his helmet, and soon his face is free, and he’s breathing fast and deep the stench of blood that fills the room; it isn’t pleasant.

 

Ren takes his mask off as well, and Hux turns; they stare at each other for a long moment.

 

“So”, Ren starts. “The other five are in the living room. I think it is time you meet them.”

 

Hux raises his eyebrows, then frowns.

 

“Are you saying if I had shot you, there were a bunch of Knights up there who would have caught me before I left and butchered me?”

 

“Uh, yeah, that probably would’ve happened.”

 

“You really are ruthless.”

 

“I meant what I said.”

 

Hux doesn’t say it back, because he has dignity, but he allows Ren a kiss before he pushes him away.

 

“Let’s go and meet those Knights, then.”

 

Ren grins, wide and toothy, and nods. As they make their way up the stairs, their gloved hands slip together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. I'm sorry for killing Phasma. This wasn't in the original plan, and when I thought of it at first I thought, nah. Killing Phasma is a dick move, she's so great. But, with the role I gave her from the beginning... There was no way it would end well for her. Maybe she'll haunt a doll so she can scream at Hux from the afterlife about his poor life choices?
> 
> Thanks for reading this far, anyway. I'm very happy about all the support and attention this story got! It was really awesome that so many people actually cared about something I was writing!! Thanks to everyone :*


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